One Way Trip
by novalounge
Summary: Max and Chloe lived together in the shadows for over three hundred years.. side effects. After losing Chloe and all life to sudden global destruction at the hands of an unknown enemy, Max makes an unguided one-way jump back to their beginning to try to change fate. Can she and Chloe rebuild a past only Max remembers, while guiding humanity to a less explody future? Pricefield, etc.
1. Prologue

**_Notes::_**

 _Getting this out of my head is mostly a cathartic exercise. I figure most of you understand._

 _Additionally, this is an emergent, iterative object, so edits may happen anywhere at any time until I get it locked down. If something changes, it's probably because I changed it, and shouldn't be taken as proof that you're sliding between alt realities. I mean, I don't know you or anything. You might be. But this shouldn't be taken as evidence by itself I guess. Use your best judgement._

 _Feedback welcome, as I'm pants-on-head level of 'i have no idea what I'm doing.'_

* * *

 **A moment** , frozen in time.

The cold, static vibration of a perma-death rewind with nowhen else to go.

The first of them fell from above.

 _We never saw it coming. Never stood a chance. None of us._

 _Fuck._

 _Like a global golden hour, only a gazillion times more intense._

 _Is this what it feels like to stand on the surface of the sun?_

 _Everything just...burned away?_

 _We can't fix this. I...can't fix this. For all our plans and our promises, for all the good we've done, I can't even save you this time. Can't save any of them. This was deliberate. The world was too unprepared; the seeds of neglect planted too far back._

 _How can I possibly say goodbye?_

 _'Oh hi love, don't mind me. No, nothing's wrong. Just rewound for a last kiss, cuddle and squeeze before our entire fucking world is turned to vaporous ash by surprise evil space assholes...wait...why are you crying?'_

 _As it was, you didn't feel a thing. I don't want you to know our last hour is our last._ _You'd see it in me. That would be cruel and selfish. And I can't. There's nothing I can do anyway. You shouldn't have to die again. Not you._

 _We always said we'd be together til the end. We've had more love and happiness than any two people deserve, and the most amazing life together. I want nothing more than to join you now. I'd be content with that._

 _But it won't let me die._

 _So, there's only one way back to you. One path with a chance of having a forward with you._

 _I'm so sorry all of this, all of us, will be lost for you, Chloe. But I'll remember everything. I swear I'll make it up to you. So many mistakes, so much trauma we won't have to repeat. We'll have a new life together. A new mission. It'll be different, but we'll still be us._

 _I don't have a choice. I can't stay here._

 _There's nowhere else._

 _One way trip. Sorry old Max. Don't be sad. You're not being overwritten. Only…looped. I'm still you, just more you now. With all our memories and everything we know…_

 _Everything we've become._

 _Goodbye end of the world._

 _I hope we meet under different circumstances next time._

 _No offense._


	2. Miles to go

**Chloe** 's eyes fixed on the flowing, reflective outline of the curves ahead.

 _This is too fucking hypnotic._

The October air was too cold for an open window. Music might have kept her awake, but the old dash radio was all static. No reception in the valleys.

Didn't matter. Max was in and out of exhausted sleep anyway.

 _Let her rest._

Chloe took a hand off the wheel, rubbed her eyes. Last time she checked, it was after two in the morning. She stifled a yawn.

 _Should pull over. Soon_.

Max was in no condition to switch, and Chloe couldn't risk falling asleep behind the wheel. Not with her family's road-luck. Or…hers, apparently?

That'd be too rich. Killing them both in something mundane as a crash. After surviving the events of the prior week.

 _Well, not 'surviving' exactly._

Chloe still wasn't sure how to process _any_ _of that._ Max saved her actual and only life at least five or six times that she knew of. She wasn't sure if maybe there were others she didn't know about. It was unnerving and badass and so much more than everything.

 _But even Max has her limits._

 _And then…it was…just…yeah._

They bailed. No stopping to help. Ran like chickenshits. Not even a backward glance. Just a total fucking escape. Like they were trying to outrun fate or death or whateverthefuck.

Drove for days. Aimless. Meandering the backroads.

Like little pieces of wreckage, blown away from the storm.

That crazy fucking storm. A fitting end to a crazy fucking week.

Started when her best friend came home after five years. When she realized Max was a fucking Time Lord. Maybe a Tardis? Trailing behind a companion super-tornado bent on town-destruction, and a handful of local psychos, because…reasons.

Chloe couldn't…couldn't think about any of that right now.

 _Rachel._

 _…mom…_

Her heart folded under the relentless pressure of withheld tears.

 _Stop._

 _Don't think about anything._

 _Don't do that to yourself._

 _Not now._

 _Keep moving forward. Fucking drive._

It was all she could do to get them headed out of town. After. Well, what was left. It carved a slow, mile-wide path from the sea, right through the heart of Arcadia Bay. Finally lost power pushing up the mountains. So many fucking people. Friends. Family. Didn't know how anyone could survive. Some did. Had to. They were pulling at the wreckage as Chloe drove them through. Numb.

 _Why did we leave everyone behind?_

 _Stop. Just stop._

 _GoddmnitfuckingStop!_

Shook her head, trying to clear things.

They weren't sure what the deal was yet. The how or why. Max's powers still worked. A squirrel ran in front of the truck day before. One moment, Max was on the bench-seat beside her, the next, she was on the side of the road ahead, waving into the trees. 'Rescue,' she'd said.

 _What is it with you and small fuzzy woodland critters, anyway?_

It was always that way with Max, long as they'd been people.

A turnout ahead. Chloe pulled to the side.

Engine off. Rested her eyes behind scratchy lids.

 _Just a few hours of sleep._

As long as the dreams didn't come.

Her eyes closed. Her body was beat, but her brain was still too restless to let go. Turning it over and over.

 _This is why._

They left Arcadia Bay without a destination. Away. But after driving half a day, seemed they were trending north. Like gravity. Made sense. Chloe assumed Max wanted her parents. Her other home, safe and sound, back in Seattle. And Chloe wanted distance from AB. Any direction wasn't there. But familiar faces, a hot meal. Maybe a hot shower and warm bed? Sounded like the best plan there ever was. _North then._

In spite of everything, the numb, they shared moments.

A look. A touch. At least one unguarded smile. Wrapped in shared silence. Shared something. They hadn't touched on the storm yet. Or how Max's note to herself got into her diary before it hit. She didn't show it to Chloe until after they'd kissed that first time in the rain, under the lighthouse. Desperate, terrifying…not until after Max tore that photo in half, forever closing the path that led back to Chloe's first death.

 _At what cost?_

 _Too high?_

 _For who?_

 _…everybody._

Chloe's relief at that moment was real, but…that only made it worse after. Watching. Like it was all her fault. But neither of them could look away.

Somewhere along the line, looks like another Max saved her life as well. After not saving it. Or something. It was all kinds of fucked up.

Unraveling the implications of time travel hurt.

 _Okay, yeah. Nothing like Max's headaches and nosebleeds. But shit, man. Time gets twisted up so fast. No…pun._

 _Fuck._

 _I don't know._

 _Should we turn around?_

 _In the morning?_

 _Why did we run?_

 _Why are we still running? Was it our fault?_

 _My fault?_

 _We have to go through this at some point._

 _Make sense of everything._

 _Make sense of…us?_

The last brought her a weak smile. One spot of maybe something less dark. It wasn't a question now. It wasn't an answer, either. But it was something to hold onto. Comforting. Like something she'd always known. Long as they didn't talk about it, she didn't have to risk losing it.

 _Sure as fuck not ready for that yet._

Chloe locked her door. Scooted her body to lay across the bench seat, head in Max's lap. She shut out the unbidden flood of memories. Of another time. Another lap. Another life, lost and found _._

 _And lost again._

 _Rach. Not…now._

 _Not yet._

 _Please?_

 _I can't._

 _I can't._

She focused hard on the rough denim beneath her cheek. Warm. Repressed another flashback. That first week. Salvaging the truck from the heap. Falling.

 _Fuck._

Chloe closed her eyes against welling tears. Failed. Eventually drifted off to something less complicated. Not sleep exactly, but not wakefulness either.

When Max's screams brought her back to the surface, it was already light outside.

* * *

 **Max** wasn't sure if it was Chloe's shaking or her own terror that woke her up.

"Ugh." _Everything hurts._ "If this is the surprise gift awake has for me today, I'll take my chances with the damn nightmares." Her head pulsed to the rhythmic roar of her own blood. The taste of morning mouth was strong.

 _Do not want._

She felt at her left eye, half-expecting to find a smoldering railroad spike sticking out like some failed cranial piercing. No such luck. Her pain was an inside thing, not an outside thing. The rest of her body was stiff from a cold night of bad angles.

 _What was I dreaming?_

The memory was prickly, just beyond the edge of consciousness.

Had to be early. Squinting through the light toward Chloe, she asked, "Where are we? What time is it?"

Chloe's expression went from concern to confused - and quickly to a different kind of worry. "nyarghblrsd amex," Chloe asked. "wary ouaocaiea?"

Max shook her head. _The fuck, dude?_ "Not funny Chlo. It's early. My head really hurts. For reals - where are we? I think I need food or water or…aspirin or something." Max lowered her hand to her shoulder, laced her fingers with Chloe's.

"ruqChe einas…hoeu xczaert 2% hreche nyei rt." Chloe slipped out of her grip to put a hand on each side of Max's head. Gently but firmly turned her to look into one eye, then the next.

"Chloe?" Max felt a tinge of real fear.

 _This isn't right. She's not playing!_

Max experienced migraines a few times over the past week, usually after involuntary visions ahead, or a hard rewind or time jump. Those felt like firecrackers going off in her head. Painful, but manageable. This one kept going, rising in intensity - more like a slow-motion atom bomb.

Wasn't letting off.

"Chloe! Wha—" Real panic now.

Something was very, very wrong.

Fire wreathed her brain.

As the delicate flip of blurred blue wings settled onto her forearm, everything collapsed inward to red, then…blackness.

 _No more birds._

 _No more squirrels._

 _No more people…_

 _No more birds._

 _No more squirrels._

 _No more people…_


	3. Seattle

**Chloe** drifted, nearly asleep.

"c…chloe?" A soft rasp escaped Max's lips, her eyes still closed.

"Max?!" Chloe's head shot up off the mattress. She fumbled for Max's hand. "Hey, hey, I'm here. Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"like ass. my…um…mouth is super dry," Max croaked.

"Right - hang on. I'll get you some water." Chloe traded Max's hand for the sippy cup next to the bed. "Here. Straw. Drink. Oh shit - I should let someone know you're awake!"

"no, wait. don't leave me?"

Chloe leaned forward. "Never."

Comforted, Max sipped at the straw. Struggled to stay alert.

Chloe hovered. "Take it slow. I'm just glad you're back. We've been worried sick about you."

When Max signaled she was finished, Chloe returned the cup to the bedside table. She took Max's hand, careful not to twitch the IV.

"who's 'we?'"

"Your mom and dad and me. It's okay now. You're okay. I'll call 'em in a few. It's middle of the night anyway. I'm _so_ fucking happy to see you, dude. You don't even know. What's the last thing you remember?"

Max creased her eyebrows. "uh…we were driving. in a forest maybe? there was a giant red squirrel. you were a sarcastic spaceship. and maybe there was a butterfly, i think? something. did we crash into the sun? I…don't know. that's kindof it. not helpful, I know. where are we? what happened? are _you_ okay?"

"Aww. Look at you - miss concerny-pants. I'm…okay. I mean, I'm messed up as usual, I guess, but way better now that you're back. I wasn't sure if I'd lost you too or...okay. Um. Long story-time short, we were driving here after the shitstorm, you screamed in your sleep, started speaking another language, and then went full-on catatonic shutdown mode. Like, total ragdoll."

"…did I drool?"

Chloe chuckled, "No…and that was an oddly specific question. Secret fear? Anyway - I couldn't wake you up and guess I just completely freaked. There was a police chase, which thankfully turned into a police escort. Got you to the nearest hospital, where they mostly poked you with sticks, threw up their hands and airlifted your ass to Seattle General. That's where you've been for the past week. Least one of us has been here with you ever since."

Max opened her eyes halfway, squeezed Chloe's hand weakly. "what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing! You're cute and smart…oh… You mean why you're _here_. Um. Yeah. No. They have no friggin' clue. But I got to see a picture of your brain! So that was a thing. Like, independent confirmation of MaxBrain? You know, photo montage? Anyway, they've been probulating you with all kinds of tech but didn't find anything extra or missing. I think it's safe to say 'it's not a toomah.' Which leads us right back to SuperMax territory, which, you know, I couldn't exactly _explain_ to them."

"what did you tell mom and dad?"

"The truth. Ish. I mean, we got lucky in Arcadia Bay. Hey - don't give me that look, perv. I meant off campus, catching up, hanging out together when the storm hit…safely out of the way. I lost my home and…um…and…you…lost your dorm, so we kinda bolted in a haze. Jumped in the truck to bring you to here. I didn't say anything about time travel if that's what you mean. I'm sure the drugs would be fun, and probably way helpful right now, but I like sunshine. And holes at the ends of my sleeves. Your parents have been super sweet to me though. Insisted I stay at your house. No arguments allowed. I slept in your bed and kinda mighta used your toothbrush. Sorrynotsorry."

"did you…anything about us?"

"Some credit, yeah? Figure that's another conversation for another day. Or not. That's up to you, and I don't know how you feel about that and them and…me…whatever. Look, it's not the time, or my place, you know?"

"i know. but _you_ know right? i mean, I know this has all been super fucked up…and i don't even know where to begin…but whatever else is going on…this…you…aren't some light thing for me…"

Chloe quieted. "I know Max. Me either. But with everything that's happened, our reunion and the timelines of dying and superpowers and Arcadia's resident psycho killers, and your head-wreckage at putting other-Chloe to sleep, and finally finding out…look, you've been out of it, and…you're my fucking hero. I seriously adore you, and I don't want to assume anything, you know? This has been super weird, and I know firsthand that shit can change in even the best circumstances. It…it always does."

"chlo, i wish i was more present for this. i'm super sleepy, and i'm sorry i'm not eloquent or anything, but this is important. i need you to know, and I need to know that you know."

"I think I do Max." Chloe rose from her chair, touched her forehead to Max's. Their eyes met as Chloe's blue locks spilled around their faces, blocking out the rest of the world.

Max, softly, "whatever else, I'm yours, you know? for reals."

Chloe searched her gaze playfully. "Goob. For really reals?"

Max, drifting a bit more, "for really reals." She lifted her chin, touched her lips to Chloe's. Slowly closed her eyes and slipped off to a restful sleep.

"Mine," smiled Chloe. "…and yours. For as long as you stay this time, at least."

* * *

 **Dr. Pattersen** hesitated. Wiggled his mouse.

As a second-year radiology resident at Seattle General, he was assigned eyes-on review of a portion of the diagnostic images produced each day.

 _One final click._

It was a pretty simple system. Drag. Drop. Profit. Well, little extra toward his sizable student loans, anyway.

They approached him a year ago. Whoever 'they' were. He figured it was for a foreign medical research or pharma company, or maybe some genomic startup looking for novel sources for R&D. Whatever. Didn't see the harm. He got a little extra every month to keep his eyes open for interesting patient anomalies, and the occasional payday if something he sent along turned out to have value.

He paused his mouse over the zip archive before dragging it over.

The medical files, images and digital scans for a young patient who'd been in a coma. _Ms. Maxine Caulfield_. Due for discharge.

There had to be some technical error in the data. But MRIs, CTs and molecular imaging all showed similar distortions, which was sufficiently weird that it became a topic around the cafeteria.

Weird enough that he might get lucky this drop.

* * *

 **Max** smiled at the happy burble of their kitchen conversation behind her. Tucked a knee under her chin.

 _Good to see Chloe forget for a while. Or…remember for a while. She seems happy today. Almost._

In that moment, Max found it easy to pretend they'd never been apart over the past five years; that everyone was okay, and that Chloe was here for dinner and a sleepover like so many times before. Different house but…

It was as much wish as pretend.

Max felt the old familiar roughness under her hands; wood polished by five years of almost daily use. They arrived home from the hospital a few hours before. She bee-lined for their front yard, to the bench her dad built after they first moved up. Became one of her most favorite places in the world. So many days and nights spent chilling, thinking. Or not thinking. Some days, she'd spend hours. Mesmerized by the sparkling waves of the Sound, spied over neighbor's rooftops across the way. Or long, lazy summer nights, on her back, straining to see what was beyond the stars themselves. Wishing she could reach out to touch them. She never quite managed.

A clank from behind her. _Ice-tea cubes!_

The Caulfield's mid-century modern house was set back on a hill, with the entire front yard level with the house. Concrete steps led down the two-story retaining wall to the entry road below. Her bench sat toward the front of the lawn, near a medium sized cherry tree. A favorite of hummingbirds and bees alike. She'd missed the view. For as much as it represented a sort of solitude, she was happy to share it with Chloe.

The glass door opened with a hard, metallic slide.

Chloe walked across the cool grass with two iced teas, handed one off to Max before plopping down beside her. Her eyes danced over rooftops, settled on the water. "So this is where you spent your five sad and terrible years in exile from me? Nice view."

Max leaned into Chloe. "I used to come out here almost every day in summer to watch the sunset. I know this will sound like bullshit, but sometimes…I wondered if you might be seeing the same one. Back home." She took a sip.

Chloe laughed, caught herself. "Sure you did. Right before you added to that big ol' pile of letters you never sent me." She hesitated, pulled back. "Hey…I didn't mean—"

Max smiled, rested her head on Chloe's shoulder. "It's okay Chlo. I know you're just messing with me. And we both know there's truth behind it too. You didn't mean it like that, and if you did, not like I don't deserve it. So no worries." _Best friend, remember. I know you a little._

Some of the tension left Chloe's shoulders. "Okay. Wow. That's…super mature actually. Sorry anyway. I realized how totally shitty I sounded right as it I said it. Thanks for not…just thanks."

"Course."

Chloe brushed a tangle of hair behind Max's ear. "So um, awkward subject change - have you given any thought to our next move?"

"What do you mean? We're home for now, right?"

"Yeah, for now. But come on, we can't freeload off your parents forever. At some point we're gonna wanna get busy, or at least, they're going to get suspicious about us sleeping in the same bed for months at a time. Just sayin'."

Her eyes were on the horizon, but Max knew the sound of Chloe's 'innocent' face. Poked back. "Or maybe both?" Max's heart beat just a touch faster. Cheeks flushed as the words came out.

 _Screw it. I'm allowed to flirt back. Not like we ever kept secrets from each other. This is so weird. And…super awesome. And…super weird._

"There's my Max." Chloe bumped heads.

Max cut short her mental wanderings. "We should probably figure out school or something, right?" Rolled her eyes. "Our therapy isn't gonna be cheap, and, I mean, we're both technically dropouts?"

"Some more dropouty than others." Chloe sipped at her tea.

Max rested her hand on Chloe's thigh. Didn't pull away. "I still wanna finish. I always pictured art school or college after Blackwell. How 'bout you?"

"I didn't think much about it, Max. Guess…escaping to LA with Rachel was the closest thing I ever had to a plan. After dad's funeral, after…you know…I kindof went off the academic trail. Stepdou…David…didn't help matters. I would never in a million years qualify for a scholarship again, and…we didn't exactly have money to paint the house. Sending me to college wasn't the big family priority."

"Chlo, you're like one of the most naturally smart people I know. I know you'd do great if you tried."

Chloe leaned forward. "I don't know Max. I think we both had hopes of a normie life once. I gave that shit up a while ago. You still could I guess, but…do you want to spend years of your life in school, playing the drama game all over again? Then more years grinding your soul working for other people? When _you_ don't have to, I mean?" Chloe poked at Max. "I'm talking to you, secret time-travel girl."

"We still don't—"

"…know if it'll last forever? Exactly! Which is why we should make sure we set ourselves up _now,_ so we don't have to worry about any of this shit ever again. You know? Just in case."

Max, confused, "What do you mean, Chlo?"

Chloe threw up her hands. "Dude - we just need hella coin. That solves so much for us. Opens tons of options. Like, all we need is one or two scores, a little bit to work with, then we figure out how rich creeps keep their balls rolling, and do that. Set for life. Do shit cause we want to, not cause we have to. I mean…haven't we been through enough?"

Max scowled. "I'm not robbing a bank, Chloe. No."

"Hahaha! That would _so_ rule. They'd never see you coming. Or going. You'd be like a total ninja! You could, you know." Chloe paused, whispered, " _Nothing_ could stop you."

Max settled into Chloe again. "No. I don't think either of us would feel good about that. Joking aside. Not really. But I agree; this is something we should figure out. If I had my wish, I mean, a silly part of me still wishes we could live in the world we drew when we were kids. You know? But…I guess that's…gone now too. Second wish, we'd have unlimited funds, our own pirate fort, and we could stay there forever."

Chloe bumped her. "That's more like it. Except replace 'stay there forever' with 'take over the freakin world!' You're practically a god, Max. Come on - we escaped Arcadia. We'll need to move out of here eventually too. And we'll need cash to do it. Do you _want_ to be a barista? Wait - don't answer that. Fuckin' hipster."

Max laughed.

Chloe rested her head on Max's. "Look, anything we decide - going back to school, traveling the world, or even starting a punk band - would be so much easier with oodles of sweet, sweet monies. It's just…a practical reality, you know? All kidding aside?"

Max ran her fingers behind her ear. "Heh. Yeah. I like this game though. You could study math and physics to figure out how I work. I could study photography and get a portfolio together, and maybe a few paying gigs and…wait…with tons of cash, I guess…I wouldn't need paying gigs at all, would I? I could focus on art." _Huh. Guess I'm not thinking with portals yet._

"Maybe that could work. I have other ways to figure out how you work though."

Max stuck out her tongue. "Bad Chloe. Corrupting influence. Okay, so what—"

"Come on you two. Dinner's almost ready." Ryan Caulfield left the door open for them as he went back inside.

"Bookmark. We're coming back to this conversation. Race?"

* * *

 **Chloe** was next to Max. Across the table, Mr. and Mrs. C.

 _Shit. This might be the prettiest thing I've ever eaten_.

She felt guilty about it. But not _too_ guilty. Ryan grilled up the Mahi steaks in the backyard. Served with steamed, buttered asparagus on a bed of polenta. She had to look up the latter. _Not fancy mashed potatoes, apparently._

The last of the sunset streamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, throwing post and beam shadows and painting everything with a soft, orange glow.

"Officially, welcome back Max," said Ryan, fork in hand. "Although, we wish it were under any other circumstances, obviously." He shifted his gaze to Chloe. "That's terrible, what happened. We're so, so sorry, Chloe."

Chloe looked at the napkin in her lap.

"Yes - but you girls are home now. You're welcome to stay as long as you like," added Vanessa.

"Thanks, mom."

Chloe pulled herself back. "Appreciate you guys taking in a stray."

Vanessa smiled genuinely. "I know it's been a while Chloe, and an unimaginably difficult time. But you spent half your childhood at our house. You're family, and you always have a welcome place here. This is your home too."

They had a few small talks while Max was in the hospital. A few tearful hugs. Max's parents had been close friends of her own, once. Chloe knew she meant it.

Between bites, Ryan asked, "You girls probably haven't had time to catch your breath, and I can't begin to comprehend what you must be going through."

 _Numb._ "Yeah, I, uh…don't have a way to answer that right now, Mr. C. Just…thanks, you know?"

He nodded. Directed his next at Max. "Have you thought about what you'd like to do next?"

Max, between bites, responded, "We were starting to talk about that. But honestly, I think we're still mostly in shock. I don't know."

Chloe, eyes down, quietly, "Yeah…" _Mom. Rachel. So many others? Goddamnit…not now!_

Max pressed her leg against Chloe's in a silent, thoughtful show of support.

 _I know Max. Thanks._

Vanessa set her utensils on her plate. "I want to put this out there. You don't have to react to it now. But, if either or both of you ever think it would help to speak to someone…a professional…someone trained at helping survivors, we'll make it happen. No pressure. But it's something available to you if you want it."

"Mom, that sounds expensive." Max shook her head, looked at Chloe. "I mean—"

Ryan interrupted, "We have insurance. And if they won't cover, we'll find another way. Look, that's not something either of you should worry about. We talked about it, and it's the least we could do. For you, for your mother, Chloe…"

Chloe, motionless, "Thanks, you guys. I mean it. But…thanks." _The fuck do I even say to that?_

Vanessa nodded. Changed the subject, taking pressure off Chloe. "Max, you're only a month or two into the school year. You could easily pick it back up to finish out your senior year here. You still have friends," she trailed, awkwardly.

"I know mom. I only need one semester to finish credits for graduation."

"Chloe, you graduated from Blackwell last year I imagine? Did you have college plans?" Ryan took another bite.

"I'm not sure what I want to do yet. I think I'd like to go to LA some point. There's still so much of the world to see," Chloe hedged.

Max jumped in. "I might test out myself, pick it back up at Art Academy in the fall. I think they have a campus in LA." She glanced at Chloe.

 _Smooth, Max._

Still. It brightened Chloe a little. "Both of us in LA at once? It wouldn't know what hit it!" She managed a smile.

Ryan turned to Chloe. "Off topic. Old-guy fashion advice - say I had a 'friend' who wanted to do something like that to their beard…" He motioned towards Chloe's hair. "…how would they go about it?"

Vanessa gave him a look, Max rolled her eyes, and Chloe laughed along with the rest.

It fit.

As shitty as it was of her to admit, she hadn't felt anything this close to home since…well, since Max left.

* * *

 **Michaels** tossed the wadded paper ball across the room, missing the trashcan by a few inches. "Shit."

 _Drone stakeouts are the worst._

 _It's not like a real stakeout, where I can at least take part in the authentic camaraderie, the bonding experience of a shared box of donuts. Or a cold night of idle banter. The connection that comes from sitting in a van for 18 hours with another actual, human person._

 _Instead, they stick me in a box._

Remote site. Hermetically sealed. Steady 68 degrees. Low hiss of air through holes in the subfloor panels. Couple of ultrawide 8k screens.

 _Might as well be playing the world's worst video game. Hoverdrone-3000! See how long you can hover in place. Doing nothing. 12? 24? 36 hours? Ugh. With these new power cells, don't even get the option of breaking the monotony with a recharge landing. Stupid things stay up for weeks._

 _I don't have to be here._

 _I'm not even necessary._

 _Yeah, yeah…that's what she said…_

The drones mostly kept station on their own by GPS and pseudo-AI. The remote video analytics software was fully capable of noticing changes in scene across multiple wavelengths and polarities, tracking people coming and going. Could differentiate well enough to recognize and instruct the drone to follow any target. But here he was. Human eyeball. Looking through an unblinking robot eyeball.

 _Blink._

 _Fuck it. It's cash. The beach-flop mortgage doesn't pay itself._

He watched the displays from his windowless concrete operations room, typed in a few time-keyed notes.

"Two sub-targets left 30 minutes ago. Primary and secondary remain in structure. Lights are off, but thermal shows two figures next to each other near a hot spot. Probably watching TV."

 _Wish I could tap the feed. Oh my freaking god - something please happen! Move an object! Blow shit up with your mind already! Anything! I'm. SO. BORED!_

He wadded up a blank sheet, tossed it. Banked in.

Not everyone was a fit for the job.

For Michaels, it was punishment.

Wouldn't have been his first choice for running out his contract, but it's not like he went out of his way to pick a thin-skinned, humorless idiot as his ops supervisor.

* * *

 **Max** and Chloe had the house to themselves for a few hours.

 _Finally free of relentless family time._

 _I love mom and dad, but boy do they hovercopter._

She finally convinced them to go out to a show. Get some 'them' time. Worked out both ways. They wouldn't be back 'til after midnight.

Movie night it was.

Full belly. David Lynch's _Dune_ , remastered for HD on a nice flatscreen TV. Chloe suggested Blade Runner for old times, but… _way_ _too soon for that._

Chloe happily accepted the role of 'big spoon' on the sofa. Was about as close to heaven as Max figured she could get and still be PG. It was almost like before, and yet totally scary and new, all at once.

She wore her favorite Hawt Dog Man PJs.

 _So fuzzy! So comfy!_

Chloe settled for boxer bottoms and a borrowed PJ top with an unenthusiastic chicken motif. She was nearly four inches taller than Max, so neither was a perfect fit.

Max didn't mind.

"LA, huh?" she asked, leaning back into Chloe.

"I…owe it to Rachel to at least visit." There was a resigned sadness in her voice. "She was from Long Beach. South a little from LA. Her parents moved to Arcadia Bay, but her heart never left SoCal."

"Road trip… You know I'm in." The idea wasn't a new one, but she wanted to make sure Chloe felt her support. They probably would have been such good friends. But, even if they hated each other, she would have tried for Chloe's sake.

"Jameson shots on the beach, on me." Chloe snuggled. "One into the sand for Rachel. That's…the mission. If you choose to accept?"

"I do," Max whispered.

"So, um…earlier, were you serious about maybe going back to school down there? Or—"

Max paused before answering. "I don't know. I think I've had enough of school for a little while. I wanted mom and dad to know I was considering it? You know. It's dumb - I don't want them to think I'm irresponsible. Wanna test out together? Might give us more options."

"Yeah…deal." Chloe got quiet.

Max looked back over her shoulder. "Cool. And you're right - we should probably think about getting our own place. Having quiet time is nice. Fort…what should we name it?"

Chloe smiled. "I'm sure we'll come up with something suitably majestic. Pick one. Loft apartment? House? Skyscraper penthouse?"

"I'm sure it'll be something suitably majestic." Max enjoyed this planning for the future thing. Was the right change of direction for both of them, and more beneficial than exclusively obsessing about the past.

 _Or obsessively ignoring the past. Only so much a person can deal with at once without imploding like a…big…implody…thing… Ehn. Denial and distractions have their places._

Even if it left something undefined about the present.

Max continued, "Okay. Back to the cash flow topic real quick? I've been thinking about this - what about…something like online trading, plus, my rewind? I mean, I know shit about what any of that means, but I'm sure we could learn in no time?"

Chloe pointed the remote. Hit pause. "Holy shit. Max - you are a legit fucking genius, dude. You can learn in literally _no time_. Youtube. Web. Rewind. _Boom!_ Instant education." She laughed, "Oh my god! You'd be like fucking Neo! 'Tank - I need to stock market'…done."

Max appreciated her enthusiasm, chuckled along. "Well, you're probably not wrong. But you need to know this stuff too, right? What if I get hit with another butterfly tranq and peace out for a week, and you need cash to buy a puppy or something?"

Chloe rested her hand on Max's hip. Tapped her finger. "So first, we're coming back to the 'puppy' thought at some point. But for the rest, you can write it all down. I can follow directions in an emergency. And I'll pick stuff up over time. But I mean, you could become an expert and get us started like tomorrow. For reals."

Max scooted back a little. Rolled into Chloe. "So, how do we do? We prolly need some actual cash to open accounts and stuff? Or something? Right?"

Chloe growled. "Grrrr."

 _Aw. I miss that cute little growl._

Chloe continued. "Right. Damn. We're not doin' shit without some upfront stakes. How do people make money without doing all that 'working for it' crap? God. I was bumming gas money from your parents to get back and forth to the hospital, so I'm no help. We could maybe sell my truck, but that would be super, super sad, and I honestly don't think it would bring much. We could _really_ use one minor score to get us started." Chloe reached forward, gently lifted a hair from Max's eye.

"Score?"

Chloe frowned. "Right. No bank robberies. Dammit. Sometimes you're no fun at all, Max Caulfield. What about gambling? They have casinos in Seattle, right?"

"Yeah, but…do you _honestly_ think I could pass for 21?" Max rolled her eyes.

Chloe rested her chin on Max's shoulder. "Shit. Um…okay, maybe some underground Seattle action then. Smalltime. Suburban. Where they won't care. We probably only need to win a few hundred bucks to open an online account. Then we can build from there, yeah?"

Max shook her head. "I'm not sure how I feel about the 'underground' part." _We turned Frank around, but he was only small-town dangerous. There are real gangs and criminals in the city. The 'drive by and make you dead' kind._

Chloe bounced on the sofa like a worm. "Dude - come onnn! The spice must flow!"

"Ew?" Max laughed, made a face.

Chloe shrugged, laughing. "The sleeper must awaken? Look, never mind. I'm just saying; you're not without skills, girl."

Max considered. "Hmm. Okay - what about the lottery?" _That seems safer. And less potentially shooty?_

"Interesting. Go straight to millions in one shot. I like your vision. Pretty high profile though." Chloe squinted. "Pictures in the paper and stuff? You okay with that kind of attention?"

Max rolled forward again. "Meh, prolly not. If we win the lottery or something, I'm donating most of it to Arcadia relief anyway. Or whatever's…happening."

"We should figure out a way to help, for sure." Chloe's voice sounded small. "You know, so it's not just for us. I mean…okay well. It's a plan. Sort of. One thing at a time. We need cash. We'll get cash. Then we can road trip, build a secret fort, and then we take over the world. Maybe do some good along the way?"

"Agreed." Max nodded gently. "Commence Operation Underpants Gnomes!"

Chloe hit play on the remote, cutting off the screensaver. "I'll research us up some spectacularly seedy spot to get some starter cash, and then you can play spin-the-timeline until you get it right." She flopped her free arm over Max.

Max took her hand, leaned back. "I still wanna be on record that I think this is maybe a _terrible_ idea."

"Noted. But 'the price of criticism is a better idea,' as my dad used to say. No…pun."

"Your dad's dad-jokes were the best. And worst."

Chloe smiled. "They were, weren't they?"

They settled back to finish the movie.

After a time, Max felt a soft kiss imprinted on the back of her neck.

 _I wonder if she has any idea how much I like that._

Max decided that she rather liked playing the little spoon.


	4. Into the dark

**Chloe** spent some time dark-webbing around before finally getting a location and door code.

From what she picked up, these kinds of places tended to pop up, stay a day or two, then relocate to some other abandoned property. The boards said they were mostly harmless, but sometimes the crews running them could be twitchy.

She was a super-kickass sidekick for tracking this down on short notice though. And she also managed to score a small bit of weed for herself.

 _Yay internet._

It was up to Max to multiply their meager finances without drawing attention. Once they were clear, they could play from relative anonymity on a much bigger stage.

Code punched, they went in.

It was a small space. Reeked of clove cigarettes and old piss. Chloe imagined it had been a donut shop or something in a past life. The front glass windows and doors were blacked out from inside, the lights were low, and the floor was gritty with dirt and dust. A few small folding card tables ran along one wall, while dice and mahjong players lined the opposite side. Stairs in the back led up, presumably to a temporary bar or speakeasy. In the middle of the room, a cheap roulette table.

They passed the doorman when they entered - in the back, behind the stairs. Chloe assumed they had watchers or bouncers in the room blending in, or maybe upstairs. But she had no idea how these things operated. There were maybe two dozen people total. A few sketchy looking individuals, but for the most part, the patrons seemed pretty ordinary and unthreatening.

 _Seems legit?_

After practice runs at home, they decided, reluctantly, that Max would be the one to play. She had no blending skills and would likely read as an easy mark. She couldn't bluff. Like at all. And she had a nervousness, even in practice, that Chloe wasn't sure would work once they were inside.

But when she tried a few hands with rewinds, she seemed better - was way more confident when she knew what cards Chloe held. Probably be okay. Besides, there wasn't a secret way for Max to signal Chloe with new instructions on each rewind. Had to be Max.

So Chloe's job was to watch her back.

 _Yeah, I'm her bodyguard. Watch it, you! God, I hope nothing goes wrong. We'd be so fucked._ She laughed to herself.

The plan was to stay about an hour. Max would lose small for a few hands, win medium for a few, lose small, and maybe win a little bigger than medium. Closing out with a minor loss. They didn't need much. From Chloe's perspective in linear time, Max stuck to the plan. None of her trademark nervousness showed. _It's just self-confidence. That's all_. _She actually looks like she's having fun._

While she waited, Chloe observed the room. Lots of traffic from the back entrance, up to the floor above and back out.

 _A lot of people not gambling for a makeshift gambling hall._ _Must be something else up there. Drugs maybe? Been there._

Max played eight or nine hands, with only minor deviations in the win / loss order, closing out her last game with a tiny loss. Chloe estimated that they had about 650 bucks. More than enough. And not enough for anyone to care about. The night hadn't been as bad as Chloe thought it might be.

She collected Max, headed to the exit, winnings in pocket.

On their way back, Max paused to watch one of the dice games. The weight of Max's arm shifted unnaturally. _Was that a rewind? Fuck. Max - what are you doing?_

* * *

 **Max** looked on, fascinated. In cards, the order of the deck was set once it was shuffled and cut. A deal on either side of a rewind was the same. If she made a different play and one of the other players decided to fold where before they'd called or hit, she might get a different card. That didn't happen but the one time. It was predictable. Easy. Human element stuff.

As they were leaving, she glanced over at one of the dice games. Players threw three die toward the wall; they hit, rebounded, and what was facing up was up. Out of curiosity, she rewound just after a throw.

Two of the three were different.

 _I don't get it?_ Standing perfectly still, she rewound again. Same toss. A little farther away, no change. Closer, one die was the same, the other shifted to another face.

It was like the closer she was, the more it changed.

 _Now isn't the best time to ask Chloe, but this feels important somehow._

Chloe pulled on her to get her moving again, so Max let her lead. They passed the next dice game. Max stopped to watch again. A pair of threes and a six. The man in the red shirt seemed very happy, the others disappointed. She rewound, hoping to see them trade places. A pair of threes and a six. Rewound again. Same result.

 _Wait…why did that first game change, while this game was the same each time?_

She put it together.

Wasn't random.

Couldn't be.

 _Weighted dice?_

 _Someone's cheating?_

If she jumped into the game, and they used the same dice, would she be able to predict what was gonna happen across rewinds? Were they switching out dice? She'd be the only one to know when it was gonna happen. Just one loop per throw and she could nail the pattern. She felt a rush of excitement.

 _I can totally manipulate this!_

 _More is better, right?_

Small bets until a swap, then a big bet on a sure thing. They were cheating, not her. She didn't feel sorry about it. Chloe wouldn't know what was going on, but she'd be fine. Quick in and out. _Explain it to her later._

Max broke away from Chloe, sauntered over to the group with her best 'I'm a girl and I've never played this game before' look, and would they mind terribly explaining the rules?

* * *

 **Chloe** had no idea what to do. Max was completely off-script. There wasn't anywhere to stand and be near her. And there wasn't a way to drag her aside without being super obvious about it.

It was pretty cramped, so she was forced out to the middle of the aisle. Max looked like she knew what she was doing, so it was probably okay, but Chloe didn't like the change of plans. It wasn't like Max. _Or was it? I…maybe I don't know for sure anymore. Dammit._

Max played a few rolls, lost small twice, then placed what looked like a big bet. She and a man in a red shirt won. One person cycled out of the player group; another took his spot.

Chloe fidgeted. _Come on Max. Let's fucking go._

The player who cycled out glanced back as he ascended the stairs.

Max went on a small losing streak. Five or six games. Then she and another player won again. Same dude with the red shirt.

Chloe closed her eyes. Held her breath. … _oh fuck. Max._

There was no way to warn her. Not without drawing attention, creating the very problem she was trying to avoid.

Two games lost. Then a third, big bet, won. Along with the same guy.

From peripheral experience, Chloe had some idea what was coming.

Didn't see an easy way out.

 _Chair through the front windows?_

Maybe, unless they were laminated, and they'd be stuck up front, away from the only other exit.

 _Though the back?_

Have to get through the bouncer. Didn't think her charm would be enough.

Side walls were a solid no-go, and the floor above was probably the worst possible direction.

 _No chance of a working fire alarm._

 _Hope Max can rewind our way out of this._

 _Shit shit shit!_

Five men flowed down the staircase, casually, but they were headed right for Max's game.

"Max. Time to go," Chloe gestured nervously, knowing it was already too late.

* * *

 **Max** loved the setup. She finally understood the system.

 _Yay, winning!_

One more good game and they'd have around five thousand dollars to play with.

 _Not bad for an hour's work._

They could turn that into more online, toast Rachel in LA, and off to the future! She was so hopeful. Happy.

Looked up with a smile to see Chloe pinned from behind by the door bouncer. Five others crashed forward with him. Except for the big one, they looked mostly regular size, but hard. Sloppy tats, a menace in their movements. Coats brushed open. Armed.

 _Oh, fuckin' hell. These guys are legit for real gangster types_. _Why on earth did they grab Chloe? What did she do?! Shit. What do I do? Stay chill._

The players stumbled away from the game as the enforcers pushed in. Two of the men took hold of the player in red and roughly marched him back toward the stairwell. The bouncer turned Chloe and pushed. A fourth stood over Max, gesturing for her to follow her friend upstairs, while the fifth trailed behind.

She was concerned for Chloe, rapidly climbing out of view, but Max was confident in her abilities. Hadn't had any nosebleeds at all, and her head felt fine, despite the past hour of rewinds.

She went along, feeling equal parts curious and cautious.

 _Let's see how this plays out. It might be a misunderstanding. I can always spin us back if we can't talk our way out. It'll be okay._

 _She'll be okay._

Max noted the layout of the room as she entered the second floor. Same size as below, with better lighting, fewer people and more smoke. Large blacked-out windows front and back. Plywood bar to one side. Beyond that, what appeared to be a row of large, makeshift voting booths of unfinished wood and cheap curtains. Old sofas and battered tables arranged in small seating areas around the room. Half were occupied.

Generic EDM distorted its way out of torn speakers.

They took the man in the red shirt to the darker wall, opposite the bar. The bouncer stopped Chloe halfway between the far wall and the stairs.

Someone pushed Max next to the man in the red shirt.

"Hey!" She turned back to face the room.

On the opposite wall, a curtain parted. A man exited, headed back downstairs.

Max's breath caught in her throat.

In the booth, a woman, chained to the floor, naked on a mattress. Bruises on her face and arms…and a mercifully blank expression.

 _Jesus fucking Christ!_

Took her a moment to piece it together.

To comprehend.

 _No…fucking way…this is so goddamn wrong!_

Everyone on the floor saw the woman, but no one moved to help.

 _What's wrong with you fucking monsters!_

Chloe saw the girl at the same time. Her face went pale, eyes angry.

A thin man with a sad expression rose from a table. Made his way to the man in red. In a casual voice, said, "cheater."

Raised his arm and shot him in the face.

Max's world collapsed with the man.

The gunshot, indoors, so close, deafened her.

Her ears burned.

Blood from the man sprayed the wall behind her. Spinning, disoriented by the noise and flash, all Max could hear was a high pitched whine and a distant low rumble.

And her accelerating heartbeat.

The room turned to chaos as patrons ran, rushed the stairs.

Blurry, Chloe screamed in the background.

Max couldn't make out her words.

As the dead man's body hit the floor, the thugs holding him moved behind Max, one on each side, and took her by her arms.

It happened so fast.

She couldn't hear.

She could barely see.

Acid rose in the back of her throat.

 _No! no! NO!_

She couldn't move her arms.

They were too strong.

She couldn't rewind!

The sad man moved in front of Max, mumbled, "cheater." Raised his arm.

* * *

 **Max** was going to die.

She was next. Of that, she was certain.

Trembling, fucking terrified.

For herself.

For Chloe.

For the abused women behind the curtains.

 _Not enough time._

The sad man raised his gun to her face.

But she wasn't looking at the gun.

Pulled back on the trigger with a practiced finger.

Behind the gun. Beyond the sad man.

Two flashes within the barrel.

 _Chloe._

Screaming thrashing powerless to stop any of it.

 _No, love._

 _I swore I wouldn't leave you behind._

 _Not again._

 _Never again._

The bullet kicked forward, tip trailing the expanding sound wave.

Panic…

…faded.

Something else took its place…

Warmth.

A microsecond of calm.

A focus that was at once anger and serenity.

Was all she needed.

Between heartbeats.

Between breaths.

The world crawled…

 _I'm sorry, Chloe._

 _Only way out is through._

 _So be it._

* * *

 **Chloe** , tears streaming down her face, screamed, "MAX!" as the gun in Max's face exploded.

 _Dad. Rachel. Mom. Max?!_ ** _NO!_** _You piece of shit motherfuckers! I'll fucking kill you all! Fuck this planet! I'm fucking done! Fuck this bullshit! Fuck everything! Fucking shoot me! Get it over with assholes!_

 _I don't want this._

 ** _I don't fucking want this!_**

Heart breaking into a thousand pieces, losing her legs, Chloe lifted her eyes, hopeful that it would finally be her turn. That she wouldn't ever have to feel anything, ever again.

That she could finally be _done._

Max hadn't moved.

Behind her, a tiny hole in the wall.

She gave Chloe an apologetic half-smile, eyes kind, lingering just a touch.

Then Max refocused all her attention on the man who pulled the trigger.

It was the most loving, reassuring, and terrifying thing Chloe had seen in her life.

* * *

 **Max** rotated her body at the waist, twisting her arms away from the hold they had on her.

The bones in their hands, wrists, and forearms shattered before skin had a chance to move out of the way. Shock in fluid, rippling out and around their limbs like slow waves on fleshy, tattooed oceans. Crashing, tearing muscled worlds apart.

Her body relaxed, she flowed.

 _Circles._

 _Spheres._

 _Biomechanics._

 _Hydrodynamics._

 _Hypersonicity._

 _Relative inertia._

She wasn't detached. Wasn't a passenger in her own body. She was hyper-aware that she directed her movements by intention - and that she maintained three distinct rates of time - one for the world, one for her body, and one for her mind. Even if she couldn't explain _how_ she knew.

She wasn't afraid anymore.

Not of them.

Not of anything.

 _Drive with hips and legs, follow through the curve of tension in your arms, up and around. Push. Sever._

The gun separated from the man. Metal bent slowly sideways, burned blue-white under the sudden increase in air pressure and friction. Part of a tattooed hand chased behind, catching sparks.

An echoing trail of exploding microscopic lights followed in Max's wake, outlining her in a million tiny suns.

 _Sonoluminescence in polarized air_.

 _Each will give birth to a new micro-universe._

 _It's beautiful._

 _Why do I know this?_

She moved her body gracefully under the bent, shattering arms of the sad man, toward Chloe.

 _Don't strike, or you'll go through them. Dip. Touch. Push. Feel the point of resistance. Control the flow of energy - let them catch up to the force._

The man on the right lifted whole, the beginning of a long, painful journey into the ceiling and through the opposite wall.

 _This is different than fighting through the Blackwell courtyard to reach Kate_.

Her body slid forward.

 _Pivot. Spin. Pull._

The man on the left tore in half as she passed through the gap.

 _Fuck. Oops_.

The front and back windows shattered outward, finally meeting the sonic boom of her very first twist.

 _The air between me and Kate was thick._ _I had to struggle through it. This is…easier._

As though she wasn't fully embedded in the atmosphere, nor entirely separated from it. Degrees of immersion, controlled.

She slowed. Chloe, nearly frozen, was already halfway to the ground. She'd been behind one of the tattooed men, but in front of the large bouncer, so hadn't taken any of the shockwaves directly.

 _Shit. I should have been more careful._

Hand out above Chloe's head, Max used the bouncer's mass to slow herself, collapsing his chest and sending him back to hang in mid-air. She knew Chloe would bruise from the indirect waves, but would probably be okay, otherwise.

Returning to the regular flow of time in normal space, Max caught Chloe before she hit the ground, guided her gently down, protecting her head.

The sounds of the following seconds were harrowing.

 _Fuck em._

 _They all chose to be here._

 _Have done far worse to others._

 _Or allowed worse to be done._

Max checked Chloe's ears. No bleeding.

 _That's a good sign._

Probably only take a day or two for Chloe to heal if she stayed near Max. That's how it had always worked.

 _When?_

She wasn't sure.

She checked pockets for a working phone. Dialed 911 for the chained victims of the dead and dying. There was nothing she could do for these women but summon medical help and the police.

The men weren't worth the effort of a rewind.

Chloe hovered somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, but Max was able to get her on her feet and provide a shoulder and arm to help her stay upright. They couldn't be here. There was no way to explain.

They left the building through the back door, staggered into the dark.


	5. First contact

**/Subject UAO032MC.11.2013:: Escalate. Acquire for stage II evaluation :: /**

 **/Dispatch SI to waypoint 4, GPS and telemetry attached :: /**

This is why Michaels was here, even if overqualified. Judgement. Reaction.

He sent the flash message as soon as the heat blooms tripped the alarms.

 _Significant event escalation._

And it was something significant. Wasn't sure 'what,' exactly - but after sitting through so many event kickoff briefings on the ops side, 'unclear' was the norm in initial surveillance data. More often than not, they turned out to be bullshit. But either way, some signs were subtle. Others were big, loud, vague. Coupled with the tip-jar files, looked like this one might be a genuine classed-event.

Local authorities were en route, which was expected. Ops would get copies of their CS analysis of the site and the victims on the back end to fill in details, so no conflicts. But experienced eyes on the ground would help ID any gaps that might inform the target interdiction team spooling up.

 _Welcome wagon…sorry._

Wouldn't be him.

'In the run-up to this event, the targets co-mingled with a dozen or so other subjects, some prone, others active.'

He replayed the IR capture. Didn't have the fine detail - but enough to see one subject execute another, then line up to execute the Primary. What followed was fast, but unfortunately not useful.

Heat spiked, saturating the FLIR.

To Michaels' eye, it was nearly identical to a hard-target Hellfire strike; down to the blast pattern. A second or two later, the bloom died down, and the Primary and Secondary were the only two moving in the top floor, one possibly injured.

Dozens fled the scene. A few small objects appeared to be burning above the three-thousand-degree peak. Hostiles all seemed to be down. If scattered. Some in…parts? They might get something more useful from the re-processed Terahertz imaging data later.

As his targets left the scene, he followed silently above, launching a small optical-only piggy-back to hold the waypoint until another full-size drone arrived to take over.

* * *

 **Chloe** struggled to open her eyes. Ears ringing, she felt like she'd just done a belly flop from the highest diving board into the shallowest pool in the world.

 _That's probably not good._

The air on her face was a damp, outdoor sort of chilly. Stars winked overhead. She was lying down in the bed of her truck, parked. Wrapped in the rough wool blanket she kept behind the seat.

 _I haven't used this since—_ She remembered. "Max?!"

Her voice was calm, soothing. "I'm here, love. You're okay. Well, you're _going_ to be okay." Max leaned forward, face upside down against the darkness.

It took Chloe a moment to orient herself, realize her head was on Max's lap. And that Max just called her 'love'?

 _Awww. When did that start?_

More softly, with happy eye contact, "hi there." Max smiled, caressing Chloe's cheek.

 _Shit. Three days out of the hospital and all we've done is trade places._ "Jesus Christ, that went horrifically bad." Chloe hurt all over, but she was awake. And thankful to any gods or demons paying attention that Max seemed unharmed. At least physically. "I'm _so_ fucking sorry. I misjudged the cray factor of the big city underground hard." She tried to sit up. _Ow._ _Nope. I'll stay right here for a minute._ She exhaled slowly. _Ow ow ow._

"I misjudged a few things myself." Max withdrew.

"What the hells happened? I saw you get shot, a bomb went off, and somehow we were okay and you caught me and now we're…camping?" Chloe wasn't sure if any of that was right, but she had an empty feeling that everything was probably much worse.

"Close enough." Max looked up, away.

 _Shit. I've seen that before on David - opening credits to a thousand-yard stare. Ow. Okay - time to nip that shit right in the bud._ "Hey - Max. Look at me. Eyes down here, Sparky. No secrets dude."

"…but—"

"No. Shut it. You're not protecting me…or us, by leaving shit out. Please…don't. It's me. You don't have to carry this. Not on your own."

"…but—"

"No. Max. It's too much, and…trying's only gonna build walls between us. Believe me. I know. If you're dealing with something, so am I. So…it's better if I understand what it is. Same goes the other way. New rule here, okay? No arguments. We're in this together or not at all." Chloe transparently bluffed on the last part, but she was deadly serious about the rest.

Max sat in silence for a minute, seemed to wrestle with the idea before letting out a long breath. Leaned forward, gave Chloe a soft upside-down kiss on her lips. Whispered, "okay."

Max relaxed beneath her.

Chloe, quiet, "Start at the top."

Max walked Chloe through events as she experienced them, noting in the narrative where events rewound or rejoined linear time. She told her everything, including the details of her sudden practical insights into chrono-augmented hand-to-hand combat. Concluding with the two block stumble-walk back to the truck, and Max's gear-grinding drive to an empty park in the suburban hills.

They were still for a few minutes after Max finished.

Chloe broke the silence. "Max - I don't…even know where to begin. Christ, that's so fucking hardcore. Are you…what you must be feeling right now…"

Max pushed a tangle of hair from Chloe's face. "I know. And…the other thing. You know. Welcome to my head. They're _your_ stupid rules." She frowned.

Chloe tried to reach up, winced. " _Our_ stupid rules now. Um. So I'm just gonna plow in - like, stop me if I'm being an asshole—"

Max nodded. "Okay. But you're not an asshole."

"First - did we get the money?"

Max rolled her eyes. "Okay - you're _kindof_ an asshole. And no. After what went down, I left it. Seemed beyond karmically stupid to use money from there as a foundation for our future together, you know?"

Chloe shrugged. "Had to ask. But yeah. Right call I guess. Um, second question. So we for real killed a room full of dudes? I mean, self-defense, yeah, totally get it. But like, that was…it happened?"

"I did, yeah. That wasn't on you Chloe."

"Like hell, it isn't. Sidekick? It was my…okay. Look. I'm not judging, like at all. I was there. I saw that woman too. We both know there were more. They shot a guy in front of us. Tried to shoot you. I mean, they were superdicks, and totally got what they deserved."

"Did they?"

"Don't. Any us vs. them, I'll fucking vote us. You know that. I'm just trying to figure - so we can understand what the steps were — why you didn't back the universe up the _second_ you saw where they were taking us? How did you get _yourself_ to a place where you were almost killed?" Chloe locked eyes with upside-down Max.

Max shrugged, her hair fell forward. "I thought it was just a misunderstanding. They already had you - so I had to follow, right?"

Chloe raised her eyebrows. "So, if I hadn't been there, you would have just rewound and noped out?"

"Well…yeah, I guess. But no! Hey! That's not fair!"

Something small rustled in the underbrush next to the truck.

Chloe shook her head, winced again as her neck knotted up. "Wait Max - no. Not about fair. This isn't…we're a team. We're always gonna be a team. This is about _understanding._ We need to know where it breaks down - what our Kryptonite is - so we can keep it from happening again. We have to learn. Example - we've learned that I'm kindof a shitty bodyguard. Now we adapt. I hope we never get into another situation like this again. Ever. But this is the second bunch of assholes in three weeks who've tried to kill one of us. If we're counting your other…timelines." _And I guess the second bunch of assholes to fail and die horribly. 2-0 IronMax._

"Okay." Max leaned back against the cab wall. "You're right Chlo. Facts first. Yeah, if it had just been me, I probably would have rewound to the first win, warned the guy in red to get out and left. But these past weeks, I've learned a few things too - and changing things isn't always as simple as just the consequences you can see right away."

 _Right._ "OtherChloe?"

Max nodded. Met Chloe's eyes, stroked her cheek. "And Kate. And You. And Jefferson, and…sometimes it's better to let things play out a little longer. I have more information that way. It might change what options I can see, what I hear that might be useful next loop, or what I can do. Okay look - say I went through all of tonight solo. Superdicks grab me, I rewind and bounce before they appear. I never go upstairs in any timeline. With me so far?"

Chloe nodded. "Not seeing the problem. That sounds like the plan where we get the money, and no one dies?"

"Is it? What about those poor women upstairs?"

"But…oh… _fuck._ Right. Goddammit. I didn't even—" Chloe closed her eyes.

"Yeah, I know. What would have happened if I'd left earlier? No one who cares about them ever knowing they were there? No one who would try to help? How long would they last, Chlo? How long would they be willing to endure? See what I mean?"

 _Goddamnit._ "Yeah, no I do. Fuck, Max. This is what it's gonna be like for you? I mean, that's some real superhero dilemma shit. You're right - this was the right thing. We're okay, they have maybe a chance at getting help, and the superdicks can't hurt anyone else. I'm grateful for that. But…hear me out - there _is_ another perspective on shit I want you to consider. So that you're thinking about it. I only say this cause I know a few things about loss and blame and self-hate—"

"Chloe—" Max softened.

Chloe shrugged. "It's okay - no drama - I'm just being honest cause I love you, and you need to understand. More info, remember? Some is internal, and some was from watching David. And I'm only starting to understand some of this now, so I'm sharing. That's all. I'm also a hypocrite, and probably full of shit."

"Ok?"

Chloe didn't know exactly how to phrase what she was turning in her head, but she let it stumble out anyway. "Okay…sometimes, the wreckage of our choices isn't visible at all. It's like, just being a person in the world, you carry this shit with you inside. It stacks up. Weighs you down. For the rest of us, we cry, we get angry, throw shit, ignore it, smoke out, withdraw, whatever - and generally try to cope over time, I think. We can maybe get a little healthy by eventually letting go of some of the bad shit we can't undo. _Acceptance_ as the final form - because for us, there are no take-backs. Fate, destiny, God, one-way arrow, indifference, whateverthefuck — it's not all on us. Can't change it anyway, don't have to carry it forever. With me so far?"

"Yeah, Chlo." Max closed her eyes.

"I've been watching you; thinking about all of this. Even before. And for you, it's _all_ fucking undoable. In a world-moving sort of way. _You_ get to choose. You _have_ to choose. And now, you have to live thinking that the world is the way it is because you _made_ it that way. So I'm really worried that - cause I know you - I'm concerned that you might not be able to let go. That you'll take on and try to carry the weight of all the bad shit that ever happens to anyone in every possible timeline. Because you know you could still change it, and you'll believe that makes it your responsibility."

Silent tears rolled down Max's cheeks halfway through. She whispered, "Like William. And Joyce. And you. And the hundreds of others who died in Arcadia Bay. And…and… _and tens of billions more?!"_ Max looked down, eyes wide, surprised at her sudden outburst.

Chloe sat up, realizing how close to home she'd hit; how shallow under the surface all this must be for Max. As close as it would be for Chloe if she weren't so practiced at pushing her feelings aside. Gritting invisibly through considerable physical pain, she scooted, turned and wrapped close around her best friend. As Max had done for her so many times.

Chloe whispered, "Max Caulfield. You need to hear this. You are _not_ responsible for every life you can't save. Even when you know they were worth saving, but at the cost of greater harm. I know you feel like you're killing them by choosing a different path, and that you're keeping them dead by not going back to change things again - that's all bullshit. You've done everything you can to save the ones you could. Which is more than anyone else can say. So you _have to let go_ of the rest, Max. This burden isn't yours to carry. It was never meant for you. Never meant for… _people_."

Max buried her face in Chloe's neck, whole-body sobbing, let out a flood. " _but it was my choice, and it is my fault…and…and i'm drowning here, and I don't want to feel like this, chloe. i killed both of your parents, and i'm so sorry joyce…william…arcadia…the man last night…I'm sorry I keep letting everyone down, and I still feel every single one…but I can't see a way to save everyone, and it's like I see all of these lines in my head, and they're tangling and there's no way…maybe if i was smarter or tried harder…maybe if someone fucking better had gotten this stupid fucking gift, or maybe if I'd taken the bullet myself on that first day, or…fuck…and even after all of that, seeing all of their faces, all the damage I caused, i'd still never ever trade you back…not in a million years because I love you so much and I feel like maybe I'm a bad, selfish person for choosing you over them, but I don't want to live in a world where you're gone…and—"_

"Hey…hey. Shhhhh." Chloe held tight. As much for herself now. She had many of the same thoughts about her own selfishness, her anger toward her father, Rachel, Max, regrets about how she'd treated people, her gratitude, and guilty relief that Max chose to save her, even knowing the cost of that decision to others. Especially Max. "Let it out. Let it go."

Sniffling, snot-nosed, Chloe said, " _Look, you're not alone either Max. Not ever. I'm with you til the end. We'll get through all of this somehow, and come out the other side - and it'll be better one day. And maybe the best we can do with all of this fucked up shit is do the least amount of damage while doing the most we can to make the world…better. Whatever the fuck that means. For us, for the planet, for other people. We have to be our own butterfly wings— I don't even know what that means, but…you know what I mean."_

* * *

 **Max** and Chloe had a good, long cry, held close under the blanket for the hour it took the sun to rise over the pines behind them. Each processing in their own way. The darkness of the night before broke, gave way to a more sunny and optimistic peach.

 _Only so much grimdark a girl can take at once._

She felt better after their talk.

New day.

Life called.

 _And somewhere out there, in this big way-too-bright world, waffles await liberation._

"Hey," Max whispered loudly into Chloe's neck. "You awake?"

Chloe shifted, whispered back, "Yeth. Are you awake?" intentionally spraying slobber.

"Maybe? Toothbrush. Coffee. Waffles," Max whispered, like a list of demands.

"I kinda don't want to move, though," Chloe pressed her lips to Max's forehead.

"Hmm. Have to. I want to see your body…shit…uh, not what I meant…I mean, yes, but…checking you…from…last night. Shut up. You know what I mean." Her cheeks flushed.

Chloe hesitated, seemed reluctant to let go of Max. Then playfully sat up and dropped the blanket to her waist in the crisp morning air.

 _Looks like Chloe's feeling better this morning too._

With an impish look, Chloe swayed side to side, faux provocatively, in her borrowed and too-short _Frank the Rabbit_ t-shirt. Hair a mess.

 _Bad Max. Bad. Focus._

Most of Chloe's bruising - skin that was seething dark-purple the night before - faded to a pale pink by morning.

 _That's better than I expected_. _I was right though._ "Yeah, that's…not fair this early in the morning. Tease. We should prolly get going. Are you okay to drive, or do you want me to?"

Chloe pulled at her hair. "I'm feeling a lot better. Should be okay to drive. I'm so gonna need a midday nap though. Cuddle party, your room. Noon. You in? Also, who says I was teasing? Is it my fault if you don't take me up on all this?" Chloe gave Max her innocent 'eyes to the sky' look.

"Totes on the cuddle party. And let's pin that last thought for revisit." New rules. She was just gonna tell her. "So, I've gotta get this out. You were pretty beat up last night and covered all over in some nasty bruises. My fault. But now they're mostly healed and faded. See? You can barely see them now." Max traced her index finger slowly down the inside of Chloe's arm. _Um._ "I predicted this would happen while we were still there."

"Like, as in, you had a vision?" Chloe took Max's hand as her finger traced past her wrist, interlocking fingers.

"Like, something you know. And I'm beginning to wonder if I've ever really had a vision at all." Max rested her chin on her hand on her knee.

"More like a memory then?"

"Maybe. Though this was more like something learned a long time ago."

"Oh good. I was afraid you were going to say something creepy."

"There's more," Max sat up.

"There's more," Chloe agreed.

"There's something about me."

Chloe laughed, trying to stay serious. "Okay, I know that, dumbass."

Max stuck out her tongue. "Okay - that was funny. Hey - no - I mean I'm the reason you're healing super-fast. I don't know if it's something to do with the way I am with time and space, or maybe there's an accidental happy heal-y field around me, or your individual cells are hitting their own private rewind, but I know with certainty that you will heal from most anything within a couple of days, as long as we stay really close to each other. I heal even faster, which makes sense, cause…I guess I can't get any closer to me than being me? Or something. Whatevs. But I'm like one hundred percent confident of this. And you _know_ how rare that is."

Chloe laughed again, pulled Max toward her. "You know you don't need to give me any more reasons to want to stay close to you, right? Ninja."

Max, failing at being serious, "I do. But I just thought you should know. Full disclosure and all. It's something I know, and now you know it too. Just…shut up and kiss me." _Hell with morning breath. Could rewind this all day._

As they kissed, Chloe's stomach grumbled loudly. They both collapsed into each other, giggling.

 _Out of darkness, into light. What a difference a few hours with her makes._

"Food?"

"Food." Nodding.

They stowed the blanket in the cab, hopped in.

Max scooted to the center to look in the mirror. "Shit. Why didn't you tell me a bird was living in my hair?"

Sat back. Buckled.

Her hand found Chloe's on the gear shift. Unconsciously, like there was no other way to be.

"Cause you look cute when you wake up and your hair is all messy and smashed to one side like a cat." Chloe started the truck. "Gotta say, it _is_ a pretty cool reason to hang around you though. Healing. Well, hair too. At least you know I was Team Max _before_ I found out you were like my personal universal healthcare solution."

"You are _such_ a dork."

"Yeah, but I'm _your_ dork now, Caulfield. Own it!"

"Wouldn't have it any other way. Now shut up and drive Price. I haz a hungry."

* * *

 **Max** & Chloe headed downtown. They agreed that the unfinished loft aesthetic and the waterfront neighborhood were a good compromise between Chloe's rougher alt sensibilities and Max's core 'bullshit hipsterism,' and there were several for sale they were eager to check out.

After the shit show a week ago, they reluctantly sold Chloe's truck. Used the proceeds as their starter fund. Wasn't much, but there was a certain poetry in it that appealed to both of them.

Chloe choked up when it was time to hand over the keys - half memories, half symbolism.

Max was pleased with herself when she repurchased it two days later, leaving it in the driveway as a surprise. Freshly washed, but otherwise unchanged. She paid four times what they sold it for to get it back, but it was worth it to see Chloe's reaction. Or feel it, rather. There was something of an enthusiastic tackle and spin hug involved. And happy kisses and stuff.

Halloween festivities followed later that night. Passing out candy with Chloe to all of the little monsters trick or treating was a cute and weird return to a lost slice of ordinary life. Or maybe it was a continuity of a sort.

Max stuck her arm out the truck window, rode the air currents up and down with her hand like a dolphin.

Chloe smiled behind the wheel. "You've always loved doing that, as long as I've known you."

"You used to do this all the time too. What's wrong with it?" asked Max, playing defensive.

"Nothing. It's cute that you still do it is all."

Max reached into her messenger bag, pulled out her camera, snapped a quick picture of Chloe, fill flash brightening her against a grey morning sky.

"What was that for?"

"Therapy."

Chloe was right about one thing. Max became a passable amateur investor in less than a day of linear time. She watched a ton of videos, read a bunch of stuff that made her eyes hurt, and in the end, learned enough about the basics to work the online trading apps.

In less than a week, they'd gone from around $450 in cash to more than $300,000. Rewind was a cheat code for making money in the market, and Max knew that from then on, their funds were pretty much unlimited. They were like children on Christmas.

She did her research in short rewind cycles at the start, remembering how much her head hurt with 2-3 minute go-backs in Arcadia. But Chloe suggested she try to push herself, figure out where the boundaries were and how far she could go. Might be important someday. So she pulsed the rewinds by minutes, then tens of minutes, and eventually hours. No headaches. Nothing. Maybe it was her body adjusting to her powers?

She didn't feel like it was any harder to go back six hours than six seconds - regardless of flow rate. But she was reluctant to go too far back for purely selfish reasons. She wanted Chloe to remember their casual moments together, bumming around the house in PJs. Yeah, they were making more moments in every cycle, but Max was the only one who remembered them all, which seemed terribly unfair to Chloe. Chloe didn't seem bothered by it since it was all continuous to her, and she only ever had awareness of the final timeline.

Max suspected she was already way too far ahead, without really knowing what she meant by that.

The only concern Chloe voiced in all of this was that time travel shouldn't ever be used to gain advantage over her in their relationship. Which seems super obvious, but good to have an affirmative agreement about. Basic stuff like using rewind secretly to manipulate her, or to win, avoid or redo arguments or fights, cheat on her and undo it, or any other abuses that would objectively be considered a violation of mutual trust, love, or expectation.

They couldn't survive if either perceived such a radical imbalance in power. So Max promised that she wouldn't ever abuse Chloe's trust under any circumstances, time travel included, and that she'd tell her when there was a reset, and what happened while Max was there, so they would remain on equal footing.

Max's promise was good enough for Chloe, and that was that. Seemed only fair for everyone.

"We're here!" Chloe announced, bringing Max back to the present. "Come on, nerfherder!" Chloe yelled as she leapt from the truck, bounded toward the real estate agent waiting out front.

"Hey! Who you calling a nerfherder?" Max opened her door. She loved seeing Chloe this happy. Almost like a puppy - so excited, she'd be furiously wagging her tail if she had one.

The visual gave Max a minor case of the giggles.

Like old times.

Chloe carried hurt under the surface; they both did. But if Max couldn't do anything to take it away, she could at least try to make sure nothing new got added. Seeing her like this gave hope they'd eventually find a way to move forward.

She hopped out of the truck, caught up and linked arms with Chloe for the grand tour of their potential forts.

* * *

 **Chloe** was excited. For the first time in a long while, she was on a good path - one of her choosing, with a partner she loved, and who knew her ridiculously well - and still loved her back. A sense that the world was open, and that tomorrow would always be brighter than yesterday.

Tried not to spoil it for Max or herself by pointing out _why_ that was undoubtedly true.

Max poked her.

The agent was going over codes. She set them up with some properties in the local area, differing slightly in size, lighting direction, fixtures or view. Gave them a lockbox code to get at the keys, left them to their explorations.

To Chloe, each space was astonishing and awesome, and she would never have dreamt that she could ever live in something so perfect. Most were open floor-plan, with modern kitchens on the ground floor, stairs going up to bedroom lofts on the second. All of them looked out over the Sound through walls of floor-to-ceiling glass. Open steel beams, all light and airy, polished concrete floors. Pretty much any one of them would have been beyond perfect for her.

Max seemed just as taken, finding joy in the way light moved through glass squares, dappled across open spaces. She especially loved the views from the loft areas out over the water. Several had mini-docks for use as outdoor decks, or mooring kayaks or other small craft.

 _Too perfect._

They one-hundred-percent needed a legit pirate flag now. Burying treasure might be a problem, what with all the water.

 _Details._

Max skipped down the stairs, crashing gently into Chloe at the bottom, hugging into her. "I can't wait to move in with you," she chirped.

"Dude, you know we're already living together at your parent's house, right? We sleep in the same bed. I've seen you there." Chloe laughed.

Max's joy was infectious.

"Yeah, but you know it's not the same. I want to move into _our house_ together and decorate with you and…make this _ours_. Chloe - will you be my not-pretend girlfriend? I just realized we've never formalized it, so I'm asking. Pleeeeeease? I promise I won't be clingy!" Max said, clinging. Cracking herself up.

 _God, she's so into this, and it's so freakin' adorable_. "Yes, spaz. I will be your for-real not-pretend girlfriend, like you have to ask. Here - take a picture." Chloe kissed Max on the cheek, switched to making raspberries just as Max triggered the shot.

Max fell back, disoriented, looked at Chloe and said with urgency, "You need to go. NOW!"

"What the fuck Max? Shit." Chloe put two and two together. "Photo-jump. How far? What happens?"

"Half-hour. We have about 5 minutes to clear and get the fuck out. Come on. Run. Take your truck. I think it's cause of the underground club stuff. I don't know for sure. These guys are _fucking_ relentless though. Armed, body armor, couple of vehicles. Tasers. Some other tech, I can't tell. Working together, really coordinated. Maybe ex-military looking. Shit. They caught us here, we took off on foot, they kept on us, every hiding spot, every pause, and they finally tased you to the ground about a mile away. I couldn't let them take you. It was downtown, people everywhere, glass high rises - I couldn't take a chance of creating shockwaves in public with that many people around. I'm sorry - I didn't see a good exit, so I pulled the photo and jumped in for a redo."

Chloe nodded, on the move and ready to go.

Max continued, "Look - I love you, but we need to split up. Get in your truck, take a left at the stop sign, go straight home and don't stop until you're there. I'll stay and draw them off; I'll be fine - I want to see what I can find out. I can move faster on my own right now, engage and rewind freely without worrying about stranding you - no offense."

Chloe was out the door. "None taken. I'm out - see you there. Wait - will she know what's happening when you get pulled back, and nowMax is left standing here confused? Why don't you just come with me?"

"I'm not getting pulled back Chloe. It's another thing that's not like it was before - I couldn't control it then. I can feel it better now, so I'm taking this as a hard loop. I've seen how they move - it gives me an advantage. Now FLY you fool!" Max yelled, blowing a kiss and waving her away Gandalf style.

Chloe did as she was asked. And worried about Max the entire drive home. Not worried for her safety - if anything, she felt sorry for the bad guys. Something else. The transition from goofy, lovable, introvert spaz to Sarah fucking Conner 'engaging' vehicles full of armed ex-military maybe-gang-hitmen armed only with…well…okay…superpowers, to be fair…was jarring. Not a personality shift, more of a hardness or…maybe focus shift.

 _She's kindof a badass. Maybe this is her finally realizing it, using that to protect us. Go, Max._

It wasn't the first time she'd seen this side of Max. And it was okay, she was still herself, and she _was_ SuperMax, after all. It was just…there was no segue between goofy Max and cereal-face Max.

 _Maybe dudes with guns do that to a girl? Or maybe sticking the time-travel landing._

 _Well, guess we'll see what she learned when she gets home._

* * *

 **Michaels** had a headache. This was the third conference call he'd been on with the planning team, going over the same after-action Ops report. He wasn't even the one on the ground in Seattle - hell, it wasn't even his report. But he had the bird's eye view, and no one else had as many of the facts. If that was even the right word for what he had.

"No, that's what I'm saying. They didn't get her."

"No, it's not that they caught her and she got away - they didn't ever catch her…It's…no…the ground units never even got close enough to see her. No, not within half a mile."

"Yes, we were tracking the whole time. We had the Stingrays up for mobile geo, top-down optical with three drones and a DOD satellite on loan, municipal traffic cams, and the team was split up into two vans…no…we were directing them in real time…that's what I'm saying. They never even got near her…of course, we have her house on lockdown. Surveillance of her isn't an issue. Contact is."

"Yes. On foot. Downtown, suburbs, water, office buildings - all over…yes sir, my background is primarily field…"

"We're not sure…I know. We never had a clearly defined line on what her ability was when the team went in…no, not blind. The trigger event involved an explosion…right…yeah, over three thousand. Between the melting point of steel and titanium…I know…yes, they had suppression, but who knows. We thought she was a firebug…no sir that wasn't wrong exactly. She's exhibiting patterns that suggest mastery of more than one set of advanced capabilities."

"Okay, no, I understand that sounds crazy…never happened. But sir, you have the track right in front of you…yes, I agree. That complicates things considerably…No sir, I don't know how you capture someone who knows where you'll be, can be anywhere else in a blink, and can set you on very hot fire if they become annoyed with you…yes, holding them might be a problem too. I can't imagine termination orders would end well - not without tight controls…For all those reasons and more."

"…watch the blue dot…yeah, okay, that's our track on the target around 13:20 local…generated by the drones and satellite, correlated with her mobile…right. See how it moves? Jumps?"

"…it's inconsistent. We're definitely looking at teleportation _behaviors_ …I know…no, she's not moving like a normal jumper - least not as we understand them…okay, are you looking at the screen?…right…there to there - she's not just jumping line of sight. She's moving away from where we're headed…yes, and along random vectors and through dense objects…4 miles. That was the longest jump we witnessed….about 5 hours…yeah, two teams…no, traps and herding didn't work - she knew. We'd think about something, and she'd already be headed somewhere else."

"Right. Look ahead - she's avoiding where we're planning to intersect, as much as 3 to 7 minutes before…it's classic precog pursuit behavior…right, except for the part about also teleporting. And apparently blowing things up with her mind…no sir, that was a joke. We still don't…"

"…No, the medical files weren't useless, but they asked more questions than they answered…distortions…yes in scans but even optical exams of blood and tissue…no, I overheard in the lunchroom they were sending some of the blood to astrophysics for analysis…baffled was the word, yes…no sir, I don't know what astrophysicists could tell us about human blood…"

"Oh, hey, Samuel…thanks for announcing yourself. Didn't realize you were in on this party…no, it makes sense that they'd bring you in…yeah. Sure. We may be dealing with multiple talents in one…yeah, I know - batshit crazy…"

"Well, initial data from observations and encounters suggests a precognitive teleporter who can…right! Blow shit up with her mind…I know, I thought it was funny too…no, I don't know how you catch one…"

"Yeah, I agree…my advice? I think you pull back. We don't know what we're dealing with. Run scenarios. Develop protocols. She knows we're on her…well, yeah. I guess she could also be a telepath and not a precog…yeah, possibly messing with our tech…I agree - super dangerous if she is and reads our people…no idea about minimum safe distance. Either way, I think you do…yeah. Doesn't change a thing. Pull back. Step up recon. She doesn't react to the drones, so leave them on her. Take the ground pressure off while we come up with a more thoughtful plan, and a cascading series of fallbacks…she's complicated…"

"…We should spin up the creatives on this one too, I think. Round out our options. Crowdsourcing, think tanks, Reddit, our science fiction consultants…yeah, Davis is at Darpa now I think. Plus our A&B teams and the psyops guys…and some of the other corporate consultants…ops contractors. PI's and OSI as well, compartmented. Disperse the heavy-lifting. While we focus on her backstory. Friends, family, everything. Network it…Right… a broad SIGINT net with NSA and FBI liaisons…Yeah, play out 'how and what if this was real and not fiction' scenarios, see what everyone comes up with, and pick the best elements….maybe 5 to 8 months, start to finish? Might take that long for a comprehensive assessment if we're staying off-threshold. …Well, if you want to get her to a more isolated spot in the meantime for public safety, maybe have a whisperer push her Vegas or Reno or something out of the way? See if they bite?"

"Thanks, Samuel. Yeah - reassignment to the field team would be great…no, it would be great to work with you again…this one seems interesting. Career maker. Been there. Alright. I'll stand by. Thanks again. Be great. And say hi to Julie for me…"

Michaels set the red phone back in its cradle.

 _Yesssss! Later, you stupid eyeball._

He did a shuffle as he walked out, locking the door behind him.


	6. Last night

**Max** didn't get home until after 5 pm. Right jacket sleeve torn, body bruised, she was tired, hungry and still bleeding from the wound on her upper arm. The blood on her hands was tacky in places but mostly dry. Some was hers.

Had the cab drop her off about a half mile away. Walked the rest to be safe. Was pretty confident she'd lost them.

Chloe waited for her in the living room, doing a terrible job of looking like she hadn't been waiting. "If you look like that, I'd hate to see the other guys."

"Not a scratch on 'em." Max dropped her bag by the door. She came all the way around the corner into the room. Chloe had the TV on, tuned to a local news channel, volume muted. "As far as they know, they never even saw me."

"And as far as you know?"

"Later. Promise. I'm super tired, really need a hug, a shower, and a whole entire pizza. Or two. Not necessarily in that order."

"On it." Chloe pulled up the pizza app on her phone, tapped away.

"You rule. Couldn't ask for a better sidekick." She leaned down to give Chloe a quick kiss hello.

"…minion…whatever. Okay, 45 minutes. I got 3, plus breadsticks and drinks and stuff. Your parents should be home by 6:30 or 7, so there will maybe be some left for them? Okay. So, how was your day? And holy shit - what's up with your bloody arm?"

"The other guys didn't always not have scratches on them. Sometimes they scratched back. Also, I think a building fell on me. I'll be okay."

Chloe's eyes went wide. "Bullshit. Faithful companion time. Come on - let's get you in the bathroom and get you cleaned up so we can see where we need staples, and where alcohol and superglue will be enough?" Chloe pushed Max down the hall toward their bathroom.

"Shove much? Jeeze. And how was your day? Do anything fun?" Max didn't mind that Chloe wanted to fuss over her.

"Did my nails. Re-colored my hair. Usual girlie stuff." Chloe sat Max down on the side of the tub facing the door, carefully peeling off her jacket.

Chloe wasn't kidding. Her hair had a new vibrancy, roots were gone, with a few subtle streaks of darker cobalt mixed in for depth. She looked amazing.

Chloe tugged. The sleeve stuck to the dried blood on Max's lower arm. She gave Chloe the 'all clear' to keep going. Chloe pulled, tossed the jacket into the corner, ran hot water in the sink, went out to the hall closet for a clean washcloth.

She went to her knees in front of Max, making faces, growling at her arm, while scrubbing carefully to clean off some of the grime and blood. Neither spoke as Chloe worked, but eventually, Chloe said, "This isn't doing it. Come on. Up. We're sticking you in the shower. No protest. Scoot."

Max followed her lead. She was beyond protest at this point. She'd been on the run, on the attack, and on defense for over 24 hours - compressed down to 4 or 5 in the final timeline that allowed her to navigate away with a little bit of info, some wounds for her trouble, and left her pursuers with no moments of encounter at all.

* * *

 **Chloe** reached into the tub, turned on the hot water, then lifted each of Max's legs off the ground to remove her shoes and socks. She popped out to the hall and tossed the shoes into their room.

By the time Chloe returned, Max was up, turned around, stripping off her t-shirt and jeans. Chloe intended to close the door and give Max her privacy. She'd always been a little shy in some ways, and Chloe accepted that as part of her charm.

Max lifted up her shirt, displaying a few vicious bruises, broken skin and what looked like fading punctures and electrical burns on her back. "Fucking hell," was all Chloe could muster as she went in to assist.

Max winced as Chloe helped her untangle her t-shirt overhead, but gave her a look that said she was thankful for the rescue. She undid her jeans, leaning on Chloe for balance as she slid them stiffly off each leg, stepped into the shower in her underwear. For all her smartassery, Max was in quite a bit of pain and covered with more minor injuries than had been apparent.

Max felt the water temperature at the tub faucet, adjusted, flipped the switch that sent it through the shower head.

Without thinking, Chloe grabbed the washcloth and followed her in, shorts, tank top and all. She closed the glass door behind them, gently working the soap and hot water over Max's arm with the cloth. She scrubbed up her right arm, carefully washing out and over the cut, and then over the shoulders, upper back and down her left.

Max's hair was soaked, plastered flat over her eyes and cheek. Chloe stopped her scrubbing, drew a line across Max's forehead with her fingertips, pulling her hair back to the side where it belonged.

Fresh blood trickled down from the cut in small rivulets, diluted by shower water, escaped out the drain. The cleaning helped a little - but a lot of the discoloration was deep under the skin. Those, along with the bloody clothes, would be a problem if her parents noticed later.

"I hope you were right about your healing superpowers."

Max nodded, steaming. "I am. But this is nice too. Minion of the month award contender for sure."

"Contender? Who's the competition?" Chloe turned faced them away from the shower head. Selectively blocked some of the hot water from washing away the suds. She soaped down Max's neck and back, giving her shoulders a bubbly massage. Felt every nick and bump beneath her fingers. She reflected with sadness and a little anger that each one had a painful story behind it. She felt protective of Max. Even if she healed quickly, she still felt every scratch along the way. Chloe flowed the soap and water over Max's sides, moving the cloth around the front to wash her abdomen in a from-behind hug motion.

Max leaned back into her, putting her hands on Chloe's outer thighs to keep balance.

"Fuck it." Max turned to Chloe, reached up, put her arms around her neck. Hesitating only long enough to meet Chloe's eyes, she rose up on the balls of her feet and kissed her deeply.

"Mmrmph!" said Chloe, entirely taken by surprise. _Again. Goddammit!_

Max laughed, reached behind her to undo the clasps on her bra, wriggling until it fell forward off her shoulders and down her arms. She turned her back to Chloe, and looking over her shoulder, hooked her thumbs into the side elastic of her panties, shimmied them to the tub floor.

"There. Now you can do a proper job without the awk of 'can I clean there or not?' or straps getting in the way." Max turned away, looked down with a smile.

Chloe stood speechless.

* * *

 **Max** was a little surprised at her boldness. She hadn't intended this; not yet. She was curious, excited and a little unsure, but she also really wanted Chloe. LIke, now. Chloe was her hero too. Smart and brave and gorgeous and sexy and Max already knew she was the love of her life.

She'd fantasized about how it might happen. What it would be like. Not that she had any experiences of her own to draw from. But she _didn't ever_ expect that she would be the one to make the first move.

And not tonight. She was beyond second-wind level of exhaustion, in actual physical pain, and coming down off of a full day of fight or flight spikes, plus whatever time travel might do to the body - so maybe it was the enforced relaxation of depleted adrenaline, plus the silky steam and the delicious soapy hot water. Or the way Chloe's hands felt as they traced and slipped over her body so lovingly and carefully. Maybe a little frustration that Chloe seemed to be navigating outside invisible lines delimiting intimate areas of her body. Whatever. It was ridiculous and lovely, and she didn't want Chloe to feel like there were any areas of her, her body, or her life that were off limits.

"Undress me," Chloe challenged, bringing Max out of her head.

Max glanced over her shoulder. "Uh. What?"

Chloe crossed her arms, hot water spraying up behind her. "Undress me. That way I'll know you're serious."

Max's turn to be caught off guard. She'd already done the hard part and put herself out there for Chloe. Literally. "No double dare?"

"Nope. You have to do this one on your own. That's how you show me you're sure. I mean, I'm in a steaming shower with a hot, naked supergirl, and I'm stuck wearing wet clothes. Help a sister out?"

It only made Max adore her more. Even now, Chloe was giving her an out. A way to gracefully pull back if she wasn't one-hundred-percent sure yet for any reason. But Max was sure. Took her fewer than ten-seconds to strip Chloe down to bare skin.

* * *

 **Chloe** realized two things over the prior ten-minutes.

First - neither of them particularly knew what they were doing.

Second - it didn't matter in the least. They were in love and highly enthusiastic about making each other feel amazing. Plus, they'd already spent their formative years communicating openly with each other about whatever was going on in their heads, so they had that part down.

And what Max wanted to know at that moment was if what she was doing felt okay to Chloe. Chloe's free hand found Max's between her legs, made a slight adjustment to the positioning, movement, and speed of Max's fingers, leading by example for a moment, and signaled her affirmation by biting down ever so slightly on Max's lower lip as her breath caught.

Chloe resumed her sensory exploration of Max's body with her free hand, lingering over this interesting nub or that, making note of any change in Max's breathing or movements for future reference. While she continued to signal Max with small bites and nibbles.

"hi," said Max softly between kisses, her breath increasingly uneven with Chloe's attentions.

"hey," Chloe replied in a whisper, pushing Max up against the shower wall. "Is this alright?"

Max's other hand was in the small of Chloe's back. In response, she pulled them closer together. Belly to belly, wrists crossed between them, rising and falling together.

"I swear to…god if you…ever rewind this I'm…going to…kill…mmphh," managed Chloe, as she buried her face in Max's neck, shower spray pelting them both.

* * *

 **Max** peaked quickly and lost control, accidentally slowing and accelerating time in sync with the increasingly intense waves that radiated through her.

Chloe, responding to the pressure of Max's rhythmic mini-time-jumps on her body, quickly followed.

She loved the way Chloe felt; tender but insistent, brand new, and comfortably familiar at the same time.

They held there in the water, senses subsiding for a minute or two before slowly withdrawing from each other, hearts racing, out of breath, invigorated.

She hadn't tried to rush, but they hadn't needed long. It had been simmering between them for a while, so was a release on many levels.

It was fumbling and perfect and exactly what they needed.

"Wowsers," letting out a breath.

"You did not—"

After a beat, they both burst out laughing.

* * *

 **Chloe** sat cross-legged next to Max on the sofa. They were both in shorts and tees, with an open, half-empty pizza box on the coffee table. Another full one underneath. Chloe, between bites, "So…nice job breaking the ice dam in there MaxAttack."

Max choked a little on her pizza. "Hey!" she laughed. "I could jump back an hour if you have regrets?" Her hair was in a cute ponytail, still damp.

"Dude, don't you fucking dare. This is now an inviolable moment in time you may never, _ever_ cross back over. Our first awkward naked fun time together! I'm super impressed you made the first move." Chloe took another bite.

"There will be others. And I'm surprised you didn't."

"Better be. And you shouldn't be. But promise me, Max. No take-backs. I want to remember this one forever."

"We should have taken a picture. Or video? Maybe next time? Don't look at me like that - photo geek - and you're hella sexy. Okay, fine. For now. I'm not giving up on this idea yet though. And yes, I promise."

Satisfied, Chloe popped the floppy end of a fresh slice into her mouth. "So you've had pizza, a hug, and a shower as requested - with bonus fancy happy you and me time - so are you ready to spill on your adventures in scarification?"

Max cleaned up pretty well after all. While there were still abrasions and punctures on her back, the bleeding on her arm stopped, and both were well hidden beneath her ambivalent-face t-shirt and some light bandages. She didn't seem nearly as sore as when she got home.

Max took a sip of soda. "Sure. TL;DR version - it was about 24 hours of me-time in rewind city. I'd run, they'd catch up, I'd rewind them away and head somewhere else, they'd catch up, and it kept going like that. I stopped once for lunch, but they showed up, and I had to rewind them away. Kinda ate the same sandwich twice. That was…super weird. They were tracking me somehow."

Chloe shrugged. "Sounds like good exercise. And it was probably your cell phone, dummy. Try turning it off next time? Do you pay attention to TV and movies at all?"

"But what if you'd called? I didn't want you to worry thinking I couldn't answer. Priorities. Anyway, I let them catch me once to see what I could overhear, or what they planned to do or whatever, but they weren't saying much that made sense."

"Like what? Where did they take you?" Chloe leaned back, arm over the back of the sofa.

Max squinted. "I gather that they thought I was teleporting and were worried I'd 'jump out' of the van? Which, I guess, is probably what my movements looked like to them if they were tracking my phone? But it didn't seem to surprise any them that they had a thought that weird and super-specific. We drove for like five minutes with nothing else, so I rewound them back a half-hour while we were at a light. Fell _right on my ass_ in the street. So…that happens. Stranded halfway across town - took me a while to find a store with scissors to get those stupid zip ties off. More awk than it sounds."

Chloe uncrossed her legs. "That first part sounds…worrying. I mean, I'd be surprised as shit if I met someone who could teleport - and I already know you and what you can do. Do you think there are other people like you out there? With powers I mean - not…scissors."

Max held back a chuckle. "I don't know. Guess anything's possible, but who were these dudes, and why would they know about me in the first place? No one knows but you and me. No one who's alive, I mean. They didn't try to talk to me or question me or anything. It sounds like way too many movies to be true. I don't feel like we know what's going on yet. These guys felt like the ones who do things, not the ones who think things, exactly."

"Did you get any solid details we might be able to research? Names, IDs, wallets, registration, anything? It would be good to know more about them."

Max leaned back, rested her head on Chloe's arm. "Well, third time I let them catch up to me, I was pissed already - they tried to tase me with those fucking taser shotguns before the prior rewind - those things hurt, by the way."

"I saw the marks - looks like it." Chloe winced in sympathy. Flipped around on the couch, reclined, using Max's leg as a pillow. "And I can see up your nose now."

"Dork." Max played with her hair as they talked. "Um, anyway. The first few zaps from the thingy knocked me to the ground, but I froze everything, pulled the shells, I guess, out? Stuck 'em to the shooter's forehead and bounced. Stupid asshole. Anyway, I was sore and annoyed, so next time I let them catch up, I stood my ground. Accidentally destroyed a few buildings and part of the freeway while taking it out on them. It felt good, but I need to get better control of the whole fighting people thing. Lots of bystanders got hurt, which sucks. I was totally gonna rewind, regardless. Still."

"So no wallets?"

"Right, sorry. Brain scramble. I…blame you. Um. No - none of them had any wallets or IDs or tats or anything I could find. No labels on the clothes, no numbers on the weapons. Vans were clean, but I did get one scrap of paper that looked like an out of state vehicle registration. Hidden in the back of the glovebox. And I wrote both license plates and VIN numbers on it, but who knows if that stuff is real? It's in my jacket pocket if you want to grab it later. Dunno if it will help, but that was the only semi-solid thing."

Chloe was equal parts impressed and concerned. _How long were they tracking her phone before_ — she shot upright. "Max - shit. Is your phone still on!?" She stole a glance at the darkness beyond the picture windows.

Max shook her head, pulled Chloe back down. "Oh, no, no - it's okay, I was only half kidding about the phone. I turned it off around 4 when I was done playing detective spy-girl. Figured that's how they were doing it."

"Phew."

"I'm sure that's what it was. They didn't show up again after. We should think about getting smart about extra sim cards, or something that will allow us to ditch tracking without cutting off communication."

"Yeah. I'll look for some tech." _Research mode in 3…_

Max continued, "I'm also thinking this might be a good time for our road trip to LA - all things considered. If you're up for it? I wouldn't feel terrible about giving my parents back their house for a while, and maybe making ourselves scarce up here for a week or two isn't such a bad idea?"

 _No shit._ "I'm down for bailing for a week or two." Although… "I'm honestly not sure my truck will make it that far without problems. It's like a two or three-day thing, right? Longer if we take the coast? Should we rent a car or something?"

Max looked up, thought for a moment. Eyes back to Chloe. "Or we could buy one? A convertible wouldn't be too weird in LA, would it? We should do our very best to try to blend in with the natives."

Chloe looked up from Max's lap. "I could maybe be talked into it. Are we talking a convertible econoshitbox? Or a convertible Lambo?"

Max leaned down, kissed her. "Your choice. You're the chauffeur."

* * *

 **Max** woke, bleary-eyed. 3 am.

Felt Chloe behind her, their limbs and bodies warm, pressed close in a comfortable tangle of bare skin.

Chloe drifted soft, sleepy breaths across her neck.

Max was so beyond tired - why did she wake up? It wasn't necessarily bad, she realized. She was already very fond of this brief quiet moment in bed with her, just the two of them, calm in the night.

 _Exhausted naked cuddle parties for the win_.

She and Chloe were heading out in the morning. They bought a new car online with a wire transfer and a quick phone call before Max's parents came home. They'd take a cab down to Olympia and pick it up at the dealer, then continue their drive south.

They both voted to take the coastal highways instead of the less scenic I-5, but neither was anxious to go back through the destruction of Arcadia Bay. It was already going to be hard enough with their mission to toast Rachel on the beach. Breaking out an old-school map, they compromised with a route that would take them inland down I-5 until they hit Sacramento in northern California. Then cut west to the coast at San Francisco, taking Highway 1 the rest of the way down to LA.

Would take them two or three days if they dawdled on the last leg and did touristy things along the way.

Feeling contented and happy - and looking forward to uninterrupted road trip time with Chloe - Max finally snuggled back into her, drifting off to sleep.

Ignoring the faraway, unconcerned sensation of something small and slightly breezy treading lightly on her face.

* * *

 **Chloe** startled awake to her phone's ring.

 _Ugh. The hell?_

Flopped her arm to the nightstand. She didn't recognize the number but thought there might be too many of them.

 _Focus. Sun's coming up outside._

"Hey, Chloe." Max's voice broke up over the shitty connection.

Chloe rubbed her eye. "Oh, hi Max. Um. What's up?" She registered that Max wasn't in bed. "Hey - if you're out getting me breakfast, I'd like extra bacon, please. On whatever it is. Just sayin'. If that's an option. Whatever. I trust you…but bacon. Seriously." She stretched, rubbing her eyes again as she yawned.

A slight delay. "Rain check on breakfast? Sorry. Um. I'm just gonna say this. According to the locals, I'm in a place called the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region of northwestern China, on the edge of the Taklamakan desert. The name of the desert rather delightfully translates into 'sea of death,' or 'you can check in, but you can never leave'… Or 'place of ruins' - depending on who you ask."

Chloe closed her eyes tight. Groaned, "Hearing, not understanding. All translations seem equally festive though."

A pause. "Been here for the past two weeks, or… _well, past to me - still your future I guess._ They say I was unconscious for the first half. Sound familiar? I guess what I'm saying is that a butterfly may have attacked me while we slept, and so, now I'm here. Kid took a picture of me with his phone when they found me. Jumped through that just now. Long story, but I had a few prophetic dreams, saw some stuff in a cave, made some friends, ate the most amazing noodles! Oh my god. So good. Anyway, everyone thinks I look like The Mummies, so that's been a fun, inscrutable celebrity thing. So…yeah. Anyway, I need to head out soon. It's about eight at night here, and this sat-phone is expensive and borrowed, so I can't talk too long — I've missed you and wanted to hear your voice. And didn't want you to worry when you woke up."

 _WTAF?_

Chloe forced herself to sit up. "Okay. Well, it's only been a few hours for me, and I miss you too, so I get that. Thankfully there's no part of any of that other crazy-ass shit you just said out loud that would cause anyone to worry right? _What the hell Max? Did you say China? You were just here?"_ _Fucking time travel._ "You know - it's okay. I'm actually more worried that I'm not as surprised by this as I should be. I'll roll with it, and we'll sort it out later. What can I do to help you? Money? Plane tickets?" _Wide awake now. How did you even get there?!_

"…I'm sorry Chlo - it's not on purpose. Last thing I remembered was waking up next to you in the middle of the night, last night for you, before going back to sleep. Maybe follow our plan? I still want you out of Seattle for bad-guy prevention purposes. Pack some clothes and my camera and stuff for me - and my phone, pick up the car, and head down to SF? I'm sorry you'll have to drive the first leg alone, but I'll find a way back and meet you there in two days? Say, noon, in front of the international terminal at the airport?"

Chloe threw up her hands. "I'm assuming you have a plan that involves somehow crossing a hostile desert to the nearest city to hop on a plane in a foreign country where you don't speak the language, in winter, without cash, ID, or passport, and without creating a terror-watchlist level event by accident? In two days? Max - are you sure? Flights are probably more than fourteen hours alone? Should I come get you? Is there an embassy or something you can go to?"

More static. "So here's a fun fact to wrap your brain around, Chlo. Only learned this one about myself recently. Turns out I _do_ speak Chinese. Multiple dialects…fluently. So, you know, that's been more helpful than not. Oh, second fun fact. I apparently know tai chi? Which explains how I was able to fight across boundaries of differential time, space and inertial frames of reference, which…I also can say out loud, somehow. Explains a few things. More questions than answers, but _some_ answers. I'll figure out the rest of the 'getting back to you' details as I go. It probably doesn't even matter how long it takes me to get there now that I think about it; I'll just clock back to noon, two days from now whenever I land, and we'll meet up then?"

Chloe shook her head. "You truly are the Kwisatz Haderach." She held her head in her hand, confused and more than a little frustrated.

"Hey - you were the one who didn't want a normie life, right? I'll see if I can find you an airport snow globe from China on my way back."

Light peeked in through the window covers.

"I'm crazy about you Caulfield. Come back to me in one piece."

"Love you too, Price. Home soon."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Chloe slumped in bed for a few minutes, Max-outline still visible on the pillow and sheet next to her, trying to make sense of the conversation they just had.

 _What the actual fucking fuck Max?!_

 _And…goddammit._

 _Now I want bacon._


	7. Worlds away

**Samuel** sipped his coffee. He held station at the far end of a large corporate conference table. The room's walls were glass, one side open to the familiar cloudy skyline a Los Angeles winter.

He began. "Thanks for joining everyone. Some of you may know each other, while others are new. Let's start off by going around the room; each of you, share a quick intro. Get to know you. Name, affiliations, what your area is, and then we'll proceed?"

Those seated around the conference table nodded, glanced at the others with the usual awkward shuffling typical of these kinds of intro rounds.

"I'll start. My name is Samuel Williams. I'm a contractor working with Exparity LLC as operational lead for this project. My background is military, special operations, agency and corporate." All part of the euphemistic common language around such tables.

Samuel, born with another name, was the cliché grey man. His appearance, persona, habits, and every aspect of his life were designed to be mundane, unmemorable, nondescript.

He was over six feet tall but appeared shorter. His build was tough but wiry; that of a professional operator, but hidden, minimized. His hair was dark brown; cut was average. His age read as somewhere in his forties. His dress was unremarkable. Business, but not flashy. No facial hair, no glasses. No scars, tattoos or birthmarks. Ethnicity was European, but fluid. His speaking voice was present but unthreatening.

He lived in an average residential neighborhood in an average beige stucco house south of LA, and his family did not know his real profession. His wife worked part-time at as a music tutor, drove a minivan with soccer stickers in the back window. His kids went to public schools. His phone was always one generation behind the latest, and he lived within the means of a man who made one-tenth his actual income.

He was designed, by training and continuous maintenance, to be the kind of person who would go unnoticed on a bus. The sort of person one might converse with for an hour on a plane without recalling a single distinguishing thing about him after. A person who could clear a room of armed opponents using everyday objects, or _their_ weapons, or his hands.

He floated where his skills were needed, often at the intersection of military, government and corporate interests, usually by referral, and then only in cases where the degrees of difficulty or costs of failure were higher than standard. His mission profiles ranged from project management and espionage overseas to asset extraction or the occasional recruitment or rendition here at home.

Lately, his checks came from Exparity, one of a few dozen shell companies under some subsidiary conglomerate or another. The company would fold within a year, as new ones were constructed for these kinds of purposes. It was a small, nested world.

His current objective, their mission, was to evaluate the character and capabilities of an extraordinary young girl named Maxine. Once cataloged, they would likely recruit her. Or failing that, package and hand her off to another subsidiary company who would find a non-cooperative use for her. Or in the worst possible case, ensure that her talents couldn't be put to use against US interests. As he understood it, most talents volunteered when presented with a clear picture of the alternatives. It wasn't a terrible life.

They continued introductions around the table. Some, Samuel didn't know beyond their dossiers, including a few eager junior staffers, a couple of techs, two project managers. Also new to him were the team's DOD liaison - coordinating efforts and authority through DC, as well as their new domestic LE liaison, responsible for coordinating with federal, state and local law enforcement.

Michaels, he knew from a few jobs they'd done together stateside and in the Middle East. Solid field lead. Impulsive at times, ruffled feathers. Smartass, but always landed the job right.

And Miss Margaret, their resident telepath. She was one of the first he'd recruited when he entered the private sector ten years ago. She was in her 50's at the time, working as a family therapist in Ohio. Recruited for _whom_ was not a question he ever asked. It didn't matter. She worked for _them_ , and _they_ represented US interests in these ongoing cold wars.

Real talents were rare, with only a handful manifesting in any given region in any generation. The US had them. The Russians had them. Brits. French. Chinese. South Africans. Indians. Brazil. Anyone with a functioning society over thirty years old had some effort dedicated to locating or recruiting talents and harnessing their gifts for espionage, diplomacy, or silent warfare. Few, if any, were volunteers.

Introductions over, he pointed the way. "Okay - today is my first day on the clock. As a refresher, we have our roles and reporting structure. Accounting is online, per diem set. Our initial timeframe is a 6-month contract, assignment, or TDY depending on your home team. You all have credentials for physical access, secure comms, encryption, and collaboration platforms. We have whiteboards, flat-screens, unlimited sticky notes, and some brilliant teams in the public and private sectors getting their briefings and assignments outside these walls today - which we'll all be coordinating and managing shortly."

He continued, "We need actionable intel, we need a workable plan, and we need to carry out that plan to its successful completion. Getting that young lady on board or off the board are the only two outcomes. We're all briefed and up to speed on the goose chase in Seattle yesterday. So let's begin. What did we learn?"

* * *

 **Max** was lulled by the rhythmic clicking of the tracks, felt as much as heard through the thin padding of her vinyl bench seat.

As she rested her head against the warm window, her face reflected shades of morning sun.

There was something almost magical in the way eyes changed under direct light. The way it bent through the lens. The way otherwise invisible colors, structures in the iris pulled forward. Organic. Alive.

She defocused, let her gaze wander over the endless, undulating dunes. Fantastically large rope grids raced by, layered in the sand on each side of the track for miles on end. Anchors against the relentless desert tide.

She'd only been on the train for a couple hours, but the small oasis village where she'd spent the past two weeks already felt remote, distant. The villagers had no memory of her stay; she erased that timeline with her most recent jump back. She'd always remember their kindness, even if they didn't.

Her whole trip was an unplanned adventure, but probably necessary in hindsight. She needed Chloe to help figure some of it out.

Her hosts in the prior timeline lived in a brick, stone, and mud house that was possibly older than Oregon, but they were warm and helpful and took her in without hesitation. They asked nothing in return for the weeks she was there. They did have smartphones, which were invaluable for planning her trip back. Her command of Uyghur was terrible, but a few of the villagers spoke passable Mandarin, so were able to act as translators.

 _So fucking weird that Mandarin would be the bridge between us, but it makes sense now._

Her train sped toward Kashgar, perched at the western edge of the desert, where she hoped to make her way to the airport and stow-away on an Air China flight to Beijing. Repeating the process once there to connect to San Francisco.

She figured it would be easier to rewind at each stop along the way, so she didn't lose time or get too far ahead. She'd need to sleep eventually, and wasn't sure if she could rewind past that barrier. It hadn't come up at home, and she was reluctant to try on a moving vehicle, given her experience falling from her captor's van back in Seattle. Still aiming to hit the 'noon in two days' mark with Chloe, she wanted to land somewhere close, so neither would be left waiting too long. That kind of flight travel math, with half a world of time zones and actual time travel mixed in, gave her a headache.

 _Chloe could do this in her head without thinking about it._

The train was a little over half full, their faces a curious mix of almost everything except what she had always thought of as Chinese. She learned that the Uyghur were one of about fifty or so ethnic groups that lived in the region at the midpoint of the Silk Road, between Asia on one side and the Middle East and Europe on the other. Her hosts in the village behind her said they shared ancestry with the Turks, rather than the Han Chinese.

The mummies they told her about were neither Chinese nor Turks. They were red-haired Caucasians, by the look of them. They were found sticking out of the sand back in the 1980's. No one was certain, but they were believed to be part of a large settled group of misplaced Europeans who vanished between four and six thousand years ago.

Max took history classes like everyone else, but hers was a huge world, with a lot of different histories.

A bend in the track, and the sunlight flashed a new patch of blue in her reflection. She smiled. Hadn't even been her idea. A couple of the village children wanted to help the rewound timeline. She'd told them how she was lost and separated from her best friend with blue hair, so they tried to give her a little piece of home to carry with her. The village grew cotton for local trade, and some of the children found the organic blue thread dye in a workshop outbuilding.

 _Kids man_.

She liked the way it made her feel. So, after losing the color in the jump, she reclaimed the pack of dye and reapplied before leaving. It was just a bit in front, maybe an inch wide and the length of her bangs.

This was the longest Max had been away from Chloe since they'd been back together. It would only be two days for Chloe, but it was weeks for Max. As silly as this dash of blue probably looked on her, it made her feel not quite so far away.

She needed to talk with Chloe about what she saw in the cave though, in the real version and the dream. As well as her visions. They only represented tiny fragments of what she suspected but were just as much about Chloe as Max.

* * *

 **Chloe** lurched forward into a stall. The salesman cringed as the V12 ground to a halt.

 _Oof._ _Not a good start._

He sidled up, spoke over the passenger window, "You should put it in Sport and use the paddle shifters. Trust me - it's so much better. Don't even bother trying to drive it in automatic mode - ever - that's only there for European emissions tests."

"Fuckin' hippies," joked Chloe. He laughed.

She popped out the sapphire crystal key, reinserted it, restarting the car. The engine roared but settled back to a more refined burble. The subsonic growl vibrated through the quilted leather seat. Hit the glass 'S' button in the lacquered center dash, flipping the right paddle behind the steering wheel toward her, once for first gear, as he showed her. "Shit they don't tell you on Top Gear." She shrugged and waved as she peeled away.

Chloe lusted after the black Aventador they saw on the website. But Max fell in love with the blue convertible Vanquish. Cause it matched Chloe's hair. Which it did. Max wasn't a car person, but she thought it was a bit more 'low key,' as if that was a meaningful distinction among exotics. So they compromised and got the Aston.

 _Yeah, that's not how compromise works_.

But it was her call, and she chose the one she thought would make Max happiest.

 _Guess that's how love works, though_.

 _I'm in so much trouble with this girl._

She took the onramp heading south, turned on the sound system and tapped a new playlist on her phone. Two sonic lenses rose majestically from the black leather dash, screaming guitars at her, while the subwoofers punched her hard in the back with drums. "That. Is. so. fucking. COOOOL!" she yelled over the music, pounding on the steering wheel with her fists.

 _No rocket launchers though._ Have to work on that.

She wanted rocket launchers.

In the distant sky, sunlight reflected as the drone kept pace.

* * *

 **Max** 's train pulled into the station around three in the afternoon. Or five in the afternoon. Depended on who you asked. Near as she could tell, the act of setting time on a watch was a binary political statement. Loyal to the local region, or loyal to Beijing?

To an outsider, it only made schedules challenging to figure out, on top of the already plentiful language and cultural barriers. The people were amiable though. And damned if they didn't have some of the best noodles, kabobs, and pocket pot-pie type things she'd ever eaten. It was the most welcoming inhospitable land she'd visited. For all its quirks, she was sad to say goodbye.

But she was still a stranger here, without money, without much of anything beyond borrowed clothes, and her life was on the other side of the world. So she felt a certain urgency to get on with things and get home.

She hailed a cab at the train station, making note of the time. The driver's English was better than his Mandarin, so they went with that. He made small talk as they drove north out of the city, toward the airport. Pointing out this bit of history or that. It only took them 20 minutes, and when they arrived, she got out of the car, said goodbye and rewound 20 minutes. She hoped she left him in the right spot. She couldn't pay for the cab, but that was no reason to cause him inconvenience or waste his gas.

 _Least I could do._

She walked through the entrance.

It wasn't a large airport, but it was bright and clean, with comfy blue airport seats. There weren't terminals as such. The planes parked a short walk away, and ladder trucks provided the means for passengers to get on or off. The jets were all standard commercial planes, so she planned to sneak on and ride in the pressurized luggage compartment.

 _This is gonna be easier than I thought. I can wait until they've loaded luggage, freeze time, and walk right on._

She examined the schedule of departures on the board. Could either go back in time eight hours or wait two more to catch the twice-daily flight to Beijing. She decided to wait. Still had days of time between now and Chloe.

A growl of hunger reminded her she hadn't eaten. She had the little bit of money her hosts gave her for the trip. Enough for a couple of meals. She went to one of the food service areas, ordered an eclectic mix of lamb kabob, rice, bottled water and a side of soup dumplings, because…soup dumplings.

While she ate, waited for her plane, she thought back to the cave. Thought she understood the more memory-like dreams. Would have to enlist Chloe to help her figure out what, if anything, they might mean. But the cave thing…she couldn't get her head around that one yet.

She was introduced to the cave in dream form before she discovered the real one. It felt more vision than memory but still seemed pretty real. She remembered the whole thing after, but even with her voice narrating the dream within the dream while she was dreaming it, she found it difficult to follow or put the abstractions represented into words. She almost wished Chloe dreamed it instead. Would probably have understood it better.

When she became aware of entering the dream, she found herself at the entrance to a small river valley in darkness. She was cold and lost. A doe appeared around a shrub upriver, regarding her. Waiting. She'd played this game before, so did the sensible thing and followed. It led her to a small cave entrance in the canyon wall. Trees and shrubs had grown to cover the opening. A field of stars filled the area within the cave. _Hole to another universe_. Diagonal and inward to the stars, the background flow of time. It shifted as she changed perspective, as though looking through a spherical aperture. The doe laid down in the short grass, as if to wait for her, ears twitching.

The words flowed through her. _All time is simultaneous_ , _from an external point of view._ But time was also relative. Like space. Like gravity. Aspects. Looking out the window of a moving train at the surrounding countryside, she saw the same view of time as an observer embedded in space, traveling through history in a linear direction. The world rushed by, relentlessly, unavoidably. But against the field of cave stars, she imagined a different view. Not of movement through space over time in a single small section, but of the whole of space-time existing at once. A multidimensional, clear, frozen, liquid object, irregular, expanding. Space, time, matter and energy were only people-words describing different behaviors of the same thing. She perceived patterns where currents and eddies of the whole universe appeared to flow like a visible thing as she moved around it, interacting with embedded density variations, sometimes spilling over, sometimes around, and sometimes flowing in circles and hyper-spheres in low-pressure pockets. Stars were born, migrated, lived and died, giving birth to new stars - the entire lifecycle visible at once.

 _If all time is simultaneous, then there is no disagreement between notions of fate and free will_. _Both are participants in the single whole, and all that shifts is a point of view. Beginning, or end. Free will is the absolute that shapes the universe. Fate is the shape of the universe when seen from the other end of time._

But what if the universe splits? Duplicates?

As Max imagined she understood the words she spoke aloud to herself in the dream, she exploded upward, outward and inward to yet another view. Of the _whole_ whole show - bifurcating micro universes at each quantum state decay, zooming out to crystalline kaleidoscope duplications of multiverses spinning away, some folded back into the source like static, while others went on to expand into monolithic structures, forming part of the polymembrane hyper-structure, its surface covered in a foam of quantum escape and reabsorption. Gravity as pure geometry, distortions of density across expanding, commingled multi-verses. Mistaken for dark matter. Gravity bleeding between realities like thoughts, each brain a quantum trap for consciousness within a universe contemplating itself.

And Max, the observer, floated in her own bubble universe, navigating, duplicating herself, blending in, fading out, jumping collapsing branch points between newly fragmented prisms, stepping outside to slide from one thought to the next. Orbiting Chloe. Always Chloe. Max was anti-entropy, linked to a directive consciousness, and that consciousness had a priority, a goal. Her.

 _Time manipulation is but a symptom of your power. Wake, up Max._

Her third person self-narration stopped, and her head the dream.

 _Like a fucking omnidimensional balloon. Dream over. What the hell, head?_ _Where does this shit even come from?_

Her noggin began to hurt again.

 _This is why I should stick to photography and greeting small animals_. _My mind isn't designed to work this way. Like a stupid painful recursive_ _möbius_ _funhouse brainhurt. Ugh._

She imagined this is what Chloe experienced recreationally every time she was baked.

* * *

 **Michaels** took the call. Day-before was mostly bringing everyone up to speed, getting their brains flexible, and working around the data and the problems. Almost all of that was out the window.

"Okay everybody - please stop what you're doing. The NSA vetted this. The intercept was pulled off an encrypted sat-phone in China, connected to the mobile phone of Max's companion, Chloe Price, yesterday morning. The intercept data linked with the open voice data from the local carrier, voice-rec matched up, and they flagged it for us."

"Who do they know in China?" asked one of the staffers.

"Max," said Michaels.

 _That turned some heads._

He put the audio file of the call through the room speakers.

 _"So I'm just gonna say this. According to the locals, I'm in a place called the_ _Xinjiang_ _Uyghur Autonomous Region_ _of north_ _western China"…"Been here for the past two weeks…well, past to me - still your future I guess."_

A few raised eyebrows.

 _"…Kid took a picture of me with his phone when they found me. Jumped through that just now. Long story, but I had a few prophetic dreams…"_

 _"What the hell Max? You were just here?"…"Last thing I remembered was waking up next to you in the middle of the night, last night for you, before going back to sleep."_

 _…"I only learned this one about myself recently. Turns out I do speak Chinese."_

 _"..tai chi. Which is how I was able to fight across boundaries of differential time, space and inertial frames of reference"…_

"…It probably doesn't even matter how long it takes me to get there now that I think about it; I'll just clock back to noon, two days from now whenever I land, and we'll meet up then?"

Michaels hit stop. The room was still. Shared looks of stunned silence around the table.

A nervous laugh from one of the staffers. "She's messing with us. I mean, she knows we're on her, and she's just messing with us, right?"

From another, "We're not…we're not _seriously_ thinking about this are we? Are we?"

They were all familiar with the limited pantheon of true talents in the world, each fantastic in their own right. Telepaths could synchronize with other people's brainwaves. Precognitives could synchronize with their own brain waves, if slightly offset in time. Both were essentially readers. The whisperers could push thoughts or visions or ideas into other people's heads; like telepaths with transmitters instead of receivers. Telekinetics were rare. Only a couple were known to have ever existed. None in the modern age, so they didn't have any scientific idea of what they were doing. Firebugs could excite molecules. Freezers could slow them down. Usually at a small scale. Teleporters were also rare, but not unheard of. They could move without moving, at great exhaustive effort, and only along lines of sight. They didn't have any in the US, but they knew the Russians had at least one, primarily used him for assassinations. There were also healers - and decayers, who were healers who used their abilities to damage organs and tissue.

Then there were the minor talents - people who could find objects, people who could draw locations where others were, that sort of thing. The big ones were rare. The minor talents were just as rare, but marginally more common than the majors. All of them had an underlying genetic component, rare in the general population. And of those, very few with markers ever manifested in any way. That was pretty much it. Far as any of them knew, that had been the playing field for as long as this game has been played. Maybe a hundred to a hundred-fifty people total over the past century. None were known to fall outside those boxes. Zero.

"No, but seriously - we're not considering this, right?"

"She's a goddamn _time traveler_." Michaels collapsed into his chair.

"Fuck."

Silence.

Samuel spoke up, his voice low, cadence even. "Doesn't change a thing. Not yet. If she's messing with the taps, it doesn't mean anything. If she's telling the truth, she's self-diagnosing, and she doesn't seem in control. We can't take her at her word, even if she believes it. Let's get back to facts, people. Proofs. Not intercept hearsay."

And with that short refocusing, everyone snapped back to the puzzle pieces.

"So was the sat-phone a relay, or was she really in China?"

"Do we have eyes in the area? Can we independently confirm? The Chinese government won't want to cooperate on this without a good reason."

"If we tell them what she might be, we'll never see her again."

"Or we might. We don't know her."

"Okay - If she's in China, did she time travel or teleport?"

"How would the two look different? How could we tell?"

"I don't think a person can teleport through an entire planet. The ones we know can barely push a couple of miles through open air," laughing nervously.

"What about drone data - what did the thermal in Seattle show overnight, before the call?"

"We'll get on that sir."

"I'm curious to see if we've made any progress understanding her blood work yet?"

"Nothing yet sir - we haven't been able to evaluate her for the markers - her cells aren't reacting as the lab guys expect. I wasn't going to bring this up until now cause it sounded a little crazy, but the astro guys said, in their analysis of the optical data, that even new photos of her blood and tissue cells were showing signs of uh, _gravitational lensing_ \- like you'd see out in space when a massive object like a galaxy or black hole bends light around and magnifies it."

"There's no way. That's just speculation!"

"They haven't been able to break apart the cells for sequencing. That's not speculation. The lensing exists in the photos - although the 'why' is unknown. It's repeatable."

"Woah."

"She said she's coming back into the US to meet Miss Price - how would she do that under the various scenarios proposed? And what's Miss Price up to?"

"Can you play that part back about 'prophetic dreams' or whatever she said? We're still back at square one I think with this - if you follow her words, she's a precog time traveler with teleportation behaviors. None of which makes sense."

"Do we have any records of her learning Chinese? Or martial arts of any kind at any point in her life?"

"Have we heard any proof that she speaks Chinese now? She said she did, but did we hear any in the recordings?"

"Price speaks English, so not surprising?"

"Sir - I know we're technically in a black hole here, but how secure are our identities as participants in all of this - in the distant future I mean? Is there any risk of FOIA requests, future declassification, so on? I only ask in case she _is_ a time traveler and we piss her off at some point; I don't want her finding out I was here, going back in time and killing my grandfather, so I'm never born…"

"How do you know you aren't here as a result of her doing that to the last guy who had your job in another reality?"

"…fuck you, Michaels. That's not funny."

"It's going to be a long night."

"Coffee anyone?"

* * *

 **Chloe** was somewhere in southern Oregon.

Straight, parallel ribbons of highway cut up and down the hills, through oaks and dried golden grass, as far forward as the eye could see. The California border wasn't far ahead. It rained all afternoon, so she put the top up. Grey skies. _Pleh_. It was nice to have windshield wipers that worked for a change. The minor luxuries.

She had a day and a half to play with the car on the drive down. Felt like she had a sense of it now. So much different than driving her truck. Way more put-together. Lower. Faster. Meaner. But settled right down when she wanted it to. Civilized and batshit crazy. _Sounds familiar._

She was sad about all the admittedly gorgeous leather but told herself it was more respectful to use all of the animal than to throw parts away - if it was to die anyway. At least that's how she justified it in her head. She'd eaten her fair share of burgers. She knew she was a hypocrite. Didn't make it easier. _But at least I'm self-aware. It does feel amazing._

The car was probably the second or third nicest thing she'd ever touched.

 _Speaking of—_

She hadn't heard from Max since her first call home.

 _Hope she's okay._

Chloe had an uncomfortable time picturing her Max wandering around by herself across a hostile desert with who knew what temptations or dangers. Which was stupid. Max could take care of herself. She'd shown that time and time again.

 _She's been rescuing your raggedy ass since literally the moment she laid eyes on you_.

Still felt like she needed to protect Max from the world.

 _I am a year older_. _And taller._

As though those facts had any bearing at all.

It wasn't that she felt useless, exactly. But if she was honest with herself, she felt useless. Max didn't need protecting. And it's not like Chloe could do any of that protection if faced with the necessity anyway. She was a liability in a fight.

Max needed help with answers. But Chloe didn't have any to give. She was a dropout. Technically, so was Max, but it wasn't the same. Max never gave up. Max was still growing, changing, advancing. In many ways, Max was quite literally passing her by, and that scared Chloe more than a little. She didn't want to be 'Chloe in jeopardy' all the time. But she wasn't a competent sidekick yet either. Staying home, out of the way, wasn't helping Max, but anything she did would slow Max down, get in her way, or put her in more danger.

Chloe refused to be useless.

But wasn't sure how to be useful.

She lit a cigarette. Hadn't had one in a while. She didn't want to smoke as much around Max.

 _Remember to air out the car in SF._

It's not like Max ever give her shit about smoking, but she always had gum if Chloe wanted some. Which she usually did before kissing Max.

 _Max. For all our talk of forever, sometimes I'm terrified I'll lose you. I won't be able to keep up. I won't be interesting to you anymore. I know I'm not good enough for you - not really. I hoped I could find a way. But I'm…I'm not seeing it._

Chloe tried to shake it off. Long stretches of alone time weren't always good for her. Got too much in her head, thinking in knots. Second guesses, doubts came back. The old fears. The weed used to help when she got like this back home. But staying at Max's parents, pot didn't seem like the thing to do. And she never felt this way when Max was around.

 _Fuck. It's only been a day. I miss her._

 _On the bright side, I'm strapped to a six hundred horsepower car capable of more than 200 mph; it's an open road, no cops around. And I have no unresolved emotional issues to worry about_.

She smiled, rolled her eyes.

 _All else fails - punch it!_

The mix of noise, adrenaline, and nicotine lifted her part-way out of her mood.

* * *

 **Max** cleared her table, checked the clock. 30 minutes to go. The airport clearly ran on Beijing time.

Waiting.

 _Why can't I speed forward?_

 _What's Chloe up to?_

She took one of the blue chairs by the window, near the planes. The mountain ranges stretched to the haze beyond their wings.

She could still taste the dumplings.

Waiting. Pondering. Remembering beauty.

 _I wish Chlo could have seen it. Maybe we'll come back someday._

In comparison to her dream cave, the actual cave was far more mundane. Except for the part about there actually being an actual cave, but she wasn't too surprised by that anymore. It was still amazing inside, for all its two and three-dimensional simplicity.

She only had to walk ten minutes from her host family's house to find it. It was probably the reason she was brought here. Or came here. Or whatever.

The cave was known locally but kept hidden from outsiders. She wasn't sure why they shared it with her, other than she'd appeared out of thin air, and upon awakening, told them she'd dreamed of that exact cave.

 _On second thought, that was probably the reason. S_ he laughed to herself.

When she found her way in, it was large inside, maybe thirty feet across and sixty feet long, the ceiling rose three floors up. Her borrowed flashlight couldn't penetrate the dark to illuminate the whole space at once, so she walked a large circle, taking it in. The air was colder but just as dry as the desert air, and the paintings were well preserved. She didn't know how long they'd been here, but her hosts believed they predated people.

 _Someone had to paint them_.

On the right wall, there were paintings of animals, plants, insects, fish, life of every imaginable description. Each was no more than hand-sized but finely detailed. Tens of thousands of them. They began just beyond the entrance, where the light from outside faded, and continued floor to ceiling, front to back. Some were partially hidden below ground-level. She wondered how far down they went? The style and artistry were incredible.

It was a tapestry in stone honoring living matter, rendered with love and color.

She even found her blue butterfly. It was only one of the thousands of different types of butterflies represented elsewhere on the wall, but it was there. An exact replica, wing markings and all. She would have been disappointed if she hadn't seen it. A few feet away, she found her doe, lying in grass. _Hi there._ Next to it was a gecko. _Did geckoes ever live near here?_ It was all so beautiful though. How had this been missed by anthropologists or archaeologists or modern science in general?

It was a cathedral, and she was in awe of its beauty.

She stayed for hours, taking it all in.

 _Hi, squirrel. Hi, frog. Hi, emu. Hi, thing that I don't know what you are._

At first pass, she thought the other wall was blank, unpainted. As though fires were lit on that side to illuminate the paintings on the first wall. But when she stood near the center and looked hard, she made out the vague shapes, formed perhaps by intentional charcoal or smoke stains. Three large, indistinct darknesses took up the far wall. Each shape was defined by massive outcroppings and protuberances in the stone as much as by rubbed soot. Half shape, half smoke, and half shadow.

 _Not ominous at all._

Once she could pick out the shapes, she thought they must have been intentionally created to appear three dimensional, using the rock to give the impression they were emerging from within, not content to be merely painted on it.

The overall message she took away was as old as the oldest myths. Life against not life. Light against dark. Harmony against dissonance. Creation against destruction. And people in the space between. Making choices.

It was a compelling art installation. All the more amazing that its message resonated ages after its artists had passed on. She wasn't sure why she needed to see this, but was glad she had.

And of course, she didn't have a camera.

* * *

 **Chloe** sat outside the international terminal on one of the stone benches. Noon. She arrived in San Francisco a few hours before but spent most of her time napping in the parking garage. Still felt on-and-off shitty about things.

 _Too much Chloe alone time. Not enough Max & Chloe time._

Wasn't sure when to expect Max. Or where. The terminal was pretty big, with people everywhere and multiple ways in or out. She was going to check the arrival boards, but realized that landing times didn't particularly matter - Max would appear when she wanted to appear - even if the plane she arrived on wasn't due for another couple hours. She could already be here, wandering around. _Like a fucking wizard._

 _Wait._

 _There._

 _She's here._

Chloe wasn't sure what mechanism or change alerted her to Max's presence. But one second there was no Max. The next, she felt…Max. It was hard to describe the feeling as anything other than 'Max.' It was the way everything was when she was there, which was different from the way everything was when she wasn't there.

 _Huh._

 _Max._

That's all she could come up with. It was the feeling of Max. And when she was there, things were better. Luminous. Vivid. Happy. Reality was more possible. Life seemed in positive focus. More _even_. When she wasn't there, things were…diminished somehow. It was a physical, emotional, visceral sensation. They hadn't been apart at all since reuniting all those weeks ago. She hadn't noticed this sense until it was gone and reappeared. The contrast. Whatever she called the feeling, she knew it was in response to something real. She knew something she couldn't know. And she _knew_ it.

 _Holy shit. I have a Max detector?_ She laughed as she thought about it. But she wasn't wrong. And she knew with certainty that they'd find each other in a minute or two.

She looked around. It did seem brighter and more colorful in the terminal.

Until everything went black.

Two hands covered her eyes.

"Max?!"

Softly from behind her, "Hi baby."

Chloe turned to see her there. " _MAX!"_ Those eyes. Her smile. A new flash of blue in her hair? _Awww. Cute!_ Chloe screamed, picked her up in a happy spinning cliché airport twirl and kissed her smack on the lips.

"Hotel?" Chloe put Max down but didn't let her go.

"Hotel." Max nodded. "I want to hear of your adventures young Price. And I'll tell you mine. But not til tomorrow on our way to LA."

"Why not til tomorrow?" Chloe led Max to the parking garage, stumble-hugging the whole way.

"Because I need a proper shower. I need room service. And I need you naked in my bed until morning." Max smiled, without shyness or hesitation. "Not necessarily in that order, if you want to help me with the shower."

"I volunteer as tribute!" Chloe yelled enthusiastically, arm up. She opened the passenger door for Max with a flourish, swinging it out and up, then closed it once she was safely seated.

Chloe started to the driver's side, stopped, spun back. She opened the passenger door, leaned in, held Max's cheek in her hand, gave her a long, deep kiss. "Just in case anything happens on my way to the driver's side."

Max giggled. "I've missed you too Chlo."


	8. Golden Coast

**Chloe** drove the Vanquish into the covered roundabout at the rear entrance of the hotel, stopping near the valet. She assumed Max would need to unwind or catch up on sleep after her travel adventures, so she booked them a suite before leaving home. Top floor of a modern high rise on San Francisco's main drag.

 _Sidekick 101._

"Hey, we're here dude." Chloe gave Max's shoulder a gentle shake as the valets opened both car doors. It was a cold, cloudy November day, and a chill wind picked up. Her phone said it was about one in the afternoon, but there was no telling what time it might be in Max's head. Global travel plus time travel.

 _Poor Max. Looks like she's gonna collapse in a heap._

"Mmm, I'm up," Max yawned pitifully, shivered. Noting the latter, Chloe handed Max her leather jacket, then exited the driver's side.

Two bellhops unloaded luggage from the boot onto a brass cart and wheeled it inside to the concierge desk, while another took Max's hand and escorted her up out of the vehicle. Helped her into the jacket on the walk inside. They only had a few carry-on sized travel bags with all of their clothes, toiletries, laptops and assorted cords and chargers.

Max kept her messenger bag close.

Chloe walked Max inside and sat her down on the cart with the luggage while they checked in. Then the whole entourage, five people including Max & Chloe, hogged the elevator up to the penthouse suite.

The entire production was an exercise in overkill - the world of people doing stuff for Chloe was a new and uncomfortable one. She was still getting used to the idea that they maybe weren't completely busted-ass broke.

Entourage tipped, door closed, they finally had space to themselves again.

 _It's only been two days._ _Feels longer. Guess it was for half of us._

The suite itself was gorgeous. Minimal and spacious. It was one of two mirror suites perched on the 40th floor of the hotel. Floor to ceiling glass showed off the city on three sides. High ceilings, modern marble and steel kitchen. A few marble fireplaces. Two large bedrooms, a comfortable living room, dining room and entertainment space, with a ginormous marble bathroom with a big round spa tub overlooking the city. The top of the Golden Gate bridge was visible off in the distance, the Bay Bridge in the other direction.

"So…this doesn't suck," said Max, one hand on the glass. She looked down to the streets below and out over the bay. Clouds made a low rolling ceiling, but the effect was dark and dramatic. Outside, it was all steel and blue-grey clouds and billowing flags. Inside, toasty, with warm yellow lights, glass reflections, and soft surfaces.

"I was hoping it wouldn't be too grungy for you," deadpanned Chloe. "It was hard to get a feel for it from the website. Sorry."

"It's like a gallery in here. Should I ask how much this costs?" Max slid to the floor, back against the glass wall.

Chloe put her hand on her hip. "If you have to ask...well, _you_ can still afford it. It's only setting us back about 20k a day."

Max choked. "That sounds ridiculously expensive, Chloe. Twenty-grand? Holy shit. I don't think the family that helped me makes that in ten years."

"We make more than that every day on some of the minor investment stuff you set up, and we're still at the beginning." Chloe shrugged, moved their bags away from the door. "Figured it was a wash. We have to stay somewhere, right? Might as well be somewhere awesome and super public, with its own 24/7 security staff. You know, what with all the chasey shooty dudes still out there somewhere?"

Max rested her elbows on her knees. "Yeah, no, you're right. It's not like we're close to the edge financially or anything. It'll keep growing too. Just feels a little…overmuch for the two of us, I guess. I don't know. Not used to this is all. Um. You can't know this cause I haven't told you anything about anything yet, but when I was trying to get back, I saw a whole different level of how very little most people have in this world. I'm reacting to that contrast, I think. Ignore me."

"No, I'm sorry Max. I got caught up in that whole 'holy shit we're totally stupid rich' thing and wanted to play. I mean, we paid cash for a car that costs more than both of our fucking houses growing up _combined_. I...bad call, I guess. Sorry."

Max leaned her head back, bumped the glass. "I didn't mean to sound shitty Chlo. It's super nice and ridiculously romantic here, and I appreciate the gesture. The safety part makes sense. You don't have anything to be sorry for. We're adjusting to a lot at once, some of it contradictory. We're fine. I'm in a weird mood is all. Dealing with a few memories I shouldn't have yet."

Chloe walked over to Max, dropped to the carpet and scooted in next to her, leaning back against the window.

Max leaned forward, then back, as Chloe put her arm around her shoulder.

"I like the color." Chloe kissed Max's forehead.

"Helped me feel not so alone over there." Max rested her head on Chloe's shoulder.

"People are gonna think we're a couple or something if they see us matching like this out in public," Chloe laughed.

"Cause all the hand holding, and kissy-face and stuff don't give that away at all." Max rolled her eyes, smiled, held her gaze. "I don't care if people know I belong to you. I mean, it's true." Max rested her hand on Chloe's thigh, both relaxing comfortably with each other for a while.

Chloe whispered, "Me too. Hey, you know, since we have this whole 'how to make money' thing going on...or you do at least...we should think about maybe setting up some fancy shell companies with charities or something. We'd need lawyers and accountants and shit to help, but I hear they work for money. And we have some?"

"Great minds." Max stretched her legs out.

"Don't want to unbalance local economies, but I'm sure there's stuff we can do to help people?"

"Whales. Arcadia. Water. Food. Medicine. Wildlife habitat. Homelessness. Medical research. Energy. Freedom. Self-determination. Space exploration. I've given this no thought, of course. There's a ton of stuff we could do to balance the scales. Or tip them to the floor. I've had free time over the last couple weeks. Of my time, I mean. We could maybe even head some bad stuff off before it happens…" Max trailed off.

Chloe nodded, rubbing heads. "Or we could do it all? It's not like the giant bucket of cash is getting smaller over time, right? So why not?"

Max rolled her head to the side and gave Chloe a quick kiss on her cheek. "I love you, Chloe. And I know I said we'd talk about our adventures tomorrow, but there's something, a part of something I saw, that you should probably know and I don't think this should wait."

"What is it?"

"I saw a vision of us in the future. A memory. You and me. Quite a few actually, but this one—" Max sat forward.

"Please tell me we had a flying car? I want a flying car. Wait - was it blue? Don't tell me!" Chloe laughed.

"I don't know how far forward it was, but the world, the architecture, it was like nothing I've ever seen in real life. Pure sci-fi, Chlo. And not the bad kind. I'd believe there were flying cars outside somewhere."

"Yay! Wait - was that inappropriate at all?"

"It was just a flash, maybe a few moments long, but there were a lot of feelings that went with it. We were in a high building, like ten times higher than we are now, and the world outside was so green and blue. Clean and alive." Max hugged her knees.

Chloe rubbed Max's back. "Any idea where or when?"

"I'll get there. The buildings looked like these towering white spires, the size of big city blocks, packed tight together and rising miles into the air, seemed like. But instead of the city stretching horizon to horizon as they do now, it was like they were compressed into these islands of buildings maybe four or five miles across, but surrounded by these huge green forests, lakes, hills."

"Whoa."

"And there were more of these beautiful, gleaming-white cities scattered around the countryside. It felt so…harmonious I guess? Like in the optimistic paintings of the future people used to make before everyone got all dystopic and edgy. I've had other visions or memories or whatever that were from the future, closer to us now I think, but they were another story; there's some bleak shit out there too that we'll get into - the 'we need to try to stop them' kind. But…from what I can piece together across all of the fragments I can remember, I'm gonna guess it was at least a few hundred years from now? I know this all sounds fucking crazy."

"Where do you think these visions are coming from?" Chloe sat up. Scooted, crossed her legs. "Why these? Wait - a _few hundred years_ \- and we're still kicking around? Jeezus. So does that mean that you learn to time-jump forward and bring friends? Or are we super fucking old? Or did someone invent a cryo-stasis tube? Shit - are we robots? We're totally robots aren't we?"

"Chloe, neither of us looked a day older than we are right now, this instant. It's like that in all of those visions or…memories. I don't think we go all Bill and Ted - or Fry…or even Bender. Well, maybe you go a little Bender, I think. But I think we really might not be aging anymore—"

"Shut up!" Chloe smacked at Max.

"Like at all. Swear, you looked 19 still. Your hair was ten different shades of blue, but long, like halfway down your back, falling over your shoulders in front. Oh my god, it looked so good on you. You were wearing this amazing long white dress with blue in it. Your arm tattoo was different somehow, and you had something - like a glowing amber tattoo or hologram or something maybe projecting from your other arm, shoulder to wrist - but I mean, you looked like a fucking space goddess. I'm not even kidding. I have chills. Look. Goosebumps. You were a total boss. But not a day older than you look right now."

Chloe bounced. "Get the fuck out! Max - you're the fountain of goddamn youth? Or a vampire? Either way…I don't care. Holy shit. You are seriously like the best friend that anyone in the world has ever had. Like friends with _super_ -benefits level. I can't believe you even considered waiting to tell me this?!"

Max nodded. "It's like the time healing field thing isn't just healing us, it's maybe rejuvenating us too I think. I don't know. But I know what I saw. I'm pretty sure we're not vampires in the future."

"You can still bite me if you want. You know, in case it's the vampire thing? Better safe? …pleeease?"

"Later, Dork," Max laughed.

"Promise? Max Caulfield, love of my life, I do hereby re-bow before you, re-re-pledge my allegiance, love, fealty, life, honor, imaginary sword, reconstructed virginity, a crayon drawing of a pterodactyl, and any fucking thing in the world you want, now and forever I'm yours. Holy _shit_ dude! Are you sure you saw what you think you saw? Wait - I was wearing a _dress?!_ On purpose?"

"Yep. I accept. Yep and yep. We'll come back to all of this. There's more. Like I'm pretty sure I'm _your_ sidekick in the future, by the way. I don't know exactly why I've gotten any of these memories, but I might have a theory. Need your help on that. Later. My point in all of this is…going back to what you said about the money probably not shrinking over time…I think you're right. But I think we're also in this world for a good long while. I don't know about you, but that changes perspective for me. A lot. Especially knowing what might be coming. Like we might be able to accomplish some amazing things. And stop a few horrible things. Maybe make up for some things in some way. And we can take our time with some stuff people try to hurry through. We can learn and get good at things people don't usually have enough lifetime for. All the time in the world Chlo. What could we do with that together? What could we help _them_ do with that together?"

"Okay, so just so I'm clear - I was wearing a dress?"

Max laughed, bumped into Chloe in faux frustration.

"Okay, but for real for a sec. You think this might be real?"

"It felt real, Chloe. And it feels right when I think about it. Like it's a factual thing. Not a maybe or metaphor. Same way I knew your bruises would heal."

A street-level siren approached, retreated.

"And you think it was probably a few hundred years?" Chloe squinted.

Max shifted, mirrored Chloe by crossing her legs, hands in her lap. "Yeah. Maybe more, I don't know for sure. I think I've got maybe a few minutes of memories total, minor vignettes out of a few hundred years of life I think - so it's almost entirely huge giant gaps. Fragments, sparkles, but they paint a picture together, and we can probably infer certain things between now and then."

"That's huge." Chloe looked away, back. "And we're still…together? Like we seem like…a couple still?"

"Yeah Chloe, of course. Wait - is that a worry you have?" Max took Chloe's hand.

Chloe paused. _No secrets. Your words to her. You owe her the same._ "Well, not…exactly. But I don't know. What if you get bored with me in 2 or 50 years? I mean, what if…well, yeah, maybe it is a little? Not saying it's rational, or all the time - but I've been feeling pretty useless here. Not exactly contributing all that much to Team Max, and I'm not sure how I can. What if you outgrow me? What if…what if you leave again?" Chloe pulled her hand away.

Max wrinkled her brow. "Chloe. Awww. It makes me so sad that you feel this way. God. I've been doing a shit job of making you feel as appreciated as you are then." She leaned, reached, pulled Chloe into a tight hug. Whispered, "We're a team. We've been taking turns picking each other up our entire lives. It's why we're so good for each other - we compliment each other's strengths and weaknesses. One day I've got your back, next day you've got mine. Year, century, whatever."

"But you can do time stuff. I'm…not doing anything like that."

"We're not interchangeable - and that's good. I have superpowers; you're brilliant. I can reshape the future. But so do you - in a different way. Today, you're my faithful sidekick. Tomorrow, I'm yours. Fact. Team Chloe is a real thing, dude. I've seen it. I look at you every day and see stars and flowers circling your head. You have to know that?"

Chloe pulled away, dropped her hands to Max's knees, met her eyes. _Aww…_ "Well. Okay. But when you think about us, now I mean, you can imagine us being together _that long_ , and not being with anyone else, or ever leaving me, and you're honestly okay with that idea?"

Max, puzzled look on her face, "What part of _forever_ do you not…am I _okay_ with it? You're such an idiot. Chloe, do you have any idea how stupid happy it makes me that it's even a thing that might be possible for me? For us? How lucky that makes me feel? Like maybe I don't get just one lifetime with you, but might get to be with you for several, at least? And I don't have to imagine that long - I know how much I loved you standing there at that moment. I mean— _mrphrmmmmmph!_ "

Chloe cut her off with a kiss.

After a few minutes, Chloe broke contact. Head down, she whispered, "You're making it hard to maintain abandonment and inadequacy issues here dude. What's gonna be left when all of my bullshit angst is gone?"

Max lifted Chloe's chin to catch her eyes. "You wear it well, but you're not your angst Chloe. You never were. I've known you too long - can't bullshit me. Besides, you're an amazing person in every timeline I've ever seen. More on that later. But I don't think you can help it."

Chloe chuckled. "Long hair, huh?"

Max smiled. "I like it like this too, obvs. But yeah. So fuckin' hot. Not gonna lie." She laughed, playfully bit the corner of her lower lip while spying Chloe through the blue stripe in her bangs.

Chloe rose from the floor. "We should go investigate the bathtub. You know, to make sure it's up to…plumbing standards and…stuff?" She dropped her hand to Max.

Max took it. "And maybe room service? I haven't eaten in it seems like forever."

Chloe helped her up. "Oh my god, Max I'm so sorry. Yes. Let's get you fed. How does hunger even work with rewinds? Food first. Then we inspect the plumbing. Wait…I didn't mean it like that…"

They both laughed.

"Then bed?"

"Then bed."

"Yay!"

"Something something inappropriate?"

* * *

 **Max** sipped an apple juice on the bleachers as the calm waves washed over the tide pool. Chloe was missing, but Max figured she got distracted by the otters on her way back from the restroom or something.

They left San Francisco that morning en route to LA and decided to stop at the aquarium in Monterey Bay. Touristy things.

The day before was still on her mind though. After a late lunch, they had some quality bubble bath bonding time in the room's spa tub, overlooking the city skyline. The bubbles, the jets, the hot water, steam - that view. And Chloe of course. Their bodies were prunes when they finally exited the tub, if squeaky clean. They dried each other off but didn't bother to get dressed. It was only a matter of time before they wandered into the bedroom to finish what they'd started in the bath.

Their first time in Seattle was like falling on ice skates; fumbling, infused with adrenaline, all tangled limbs on slippery surfaces, and over relatively quickly - unexpected but invigorating. Still amazing and beautiful, and Max would never change a thing about it.

San Francisco, by contrast, had been more like a lovely day spent sunning on a late spring beach. A slow, warm, comfortable burn, oil applied, meandering across hours, more intent on the shared sensations of moments than any particular rush to a destination. Slow motion sensuality expressed through prolonged body to body contact, mutual oral and digital explorations, touching and feeling and warm skin and taste and breath and kisses and a kind of real closeness and intimate wordless communication that Max hadn't ever known. The orgasms she experienced last night were much less frantic, more diffuse builds over extended periods, longer lasting each time; waves of tingling, melting, clenching, overwhelming, overflowing pleasure until every muscle stopped working, leaving her lying in a sheen of sweat like a wet noodle. Repeated over the course of the night on both sides. Max only lost control of time twice, and did the time pulsing thing once on purpose to see if she could push Chloe over the edge. _Totally worked._ Spent, they fell into the best sleep Max had since the night she vanished. Only this time, when she woke up, they were both still where they belonged. It was a good night, and she was getting a little worked up remembering.

 _Later._

The drive down took a couple hours, so Max shared some of her adventures in China, as well as the dream cave and the real one. Chloe wanted to go over all of it again with a whiteboard at some point, so she understood. Max hadn't gotten to any of the memories / visions of the future she'd had while unconscious yet. At least not beyond the one shared the day before. Wanted to make sure she could frame them properly first.

She spied Chloe at the ray petting tank, and after she finished her juice, she wandered over. Hugged her from behind at the waist. Peeked around Chloe to see the rays swimming about in their elevated pool.

"Hey, goober! You try petting these lil dudes yet? They're super friendly." Chloe pointed.

Max let go of Chloe, leaned her elbows on the ledge. "Or used to people. Not sure I'd be as willing to get poked by strangers all day."

Chloe smirked. "You did not just say that."

"Gah. Moving on." Max scanned the pool. "Their faces look super happy."

A dozen rays swam their lazy routes along the bottom, occasionally flipping sideways to show off their smiling mouths. They were interested in staying moving and unconcerned about the people petting them.

 _Seems safe enough._ Max slid her hand flat into the water, down to the level where she thought one of the rays might kinda run into it. The nearest of them course corrected, headed straight for her, brushing against the underside of her hand with its head. It felt sandpapery but wasn't unpleasant. The others each made similar beelines for Max from the paths they'd been swimming elsewhere in the tank.

"I think they like you, Max." Chloe leaned over, arm on Max's back.

The rays swam in slow, lazy, overlapping circles near her hand, not interfering with each other, but rising or falling in their circles to take turns lightly bumping her.

After a minute, Max withdrew from the water.

The rays circled, continued on their ways.

"Okay - that was pretty magical." Max dried her hand on Chloe's jeans.

"Hey!" Chloe smacked her. Turned away. "Um. So - they have some hammerhead sharks on the other side. Can we?"

Max followed. "Duh. But I'm not putting my hand in. We should grab lunch after."

They walked arm in arm across the aquarium to see the sharks.

Max hadn't been over to this part of the aquarium yet, so she wasn't prepared for how utterly massive the deep ocean tank was. The plexiglass front alone was easily the size of a three-story office building. "Woah."

Chloe, closer to the tank, pointed. "Hey, Max - over there - what the hell is that?"

Max followed her arm to the fish she meant, found its outline on the placard. "It says here it's a 'deep ocean sunfish.'"

"How does it even move?" Chloe shook her head, threw up her arms in an exaggerated pose.

Max held her arms against her body, flapped her hands like flippers. "I think it flaps those flippy things on the top and bottom around? Maybe? Or jets out its butt? Dunno." She laughed.

There were a few varieties of shark, sea turtles, sunfish, and full-size tuna all swimming in the vortex.

 _Tuna?_ Max lost her balance, landed on the steps.

Chloe was by her side immediately. "Hey - are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just seeing that…surfaced something." Max felt okay; was just a little dizzy spell. "Just a…flash-forward I guess? It was of you."

"What did you see?"

"Okay, I'm just gonna stream of consciousness this one, okay — it's super fresh, so we'll explore it together?"

"I'm down." Chloe took a seat next to Max, interlocking fingers.

The light from the tank cast them in blues.

"Okay. Um. We - you and I and about a dozen other people - were in a room, sorta like this except it was more industrial. Clean, but not made for a viewing audience like this. Anyway, you were standing like you just were a second ago, hand on the glass, staring at this single large fish - tuna I think - swimming around the tank."

"So we're maybe here again in the future? Or buying sushi in bulk?"

Max rolled her eyes. "Dork. No, it wasn't like that. It was a lot more important. It's so abstract and disconnected in my head, but I remember the context, how insanely proud I was of you because of that fish. Like, I was thinking that you took this entire extinct species, and you rebuilt them from scratch. Well, not just you. I mean, there were a ton of other people and resources and stuff. But it was all based on your research, your direction, and breakthroughs in fuzzing the genes of clones to introduce diversity at scale… I think. Something. I'm not a dummy, but the science was beyond me even that far forward."

"Team Chloe moment?"

Max nodded. "Totally."

"She sounds kinda hot."

Max bumped her. "Now you're just fishing."

"Heh. I see what you did there," Chloe laughed.

Max continued, "Anyway. I was watching you at that moment, so goddamn proud - of who you were, who you'd become, of what you'd done, and just everything. I was fangirling so hard it was embarrassing. I was thinking back, remembering that this was that same girl who was once so full of anger, who hated everything, who wanted to burn it all to the ground. This was the same girl who the _world_ would have let die alone in a bathroom, never knowing how special, important or loved she was. And yet, here she was. She _made herself_ into the one responsible for saving it. Rebuilding life - creating these precious things that had been lost forever to the world, by hand, and repopulating entire ecosystems that had collapsed. Chloe, I didn't have the words. Honestly. You were so far beyond me."

"She sounds amazing Max. Like…a totally different person." Chloe squeezed Max's hand. "But anything she is, was, will be, whatever - is because of you. _You_ were the one who saved her life. In more ways than one."

Max leaned into her. "That's what I was trying to tell you yesterday Chloe. We're a team. We're the _only_ team. We save each other. Anyway, that's, uh, that's it for the vision. Memory. We should pick something to call them. Can we eat? I'm feeling a little drained."

"Yeah, of course."

* * *

 **Chloe** looked back. Grumbled.

Somewhere between.

Endless red lights ahead, white behind. Concrete barriers, block walls on either side. Chloe was behind the wheel, but not strictly necessary.

Max was tuckered out in the passenger seat, oblivious to the parking lot LA called a freeway. The sun sank behind them.

 _At this rate, it'll take another three goddamn hours to get to the hotel._

Flappy-paddle transmissions _did not_ shine in crawling, bumper to bumper traffic, and Chloe's brake leg was feeling it. She stretched in place, leaned back into the headrest in thought.

For the last couple hours, most of the drive down, she tried to reconcile the pictures Max painted of FutureChloe against her self-conception. Failed miserably. She knew Max was only trying to make her feel better, to show her that all things balance between them in the end. But the gulf between who she was and who Max described was too great. Unrelatable. In some ways, it made her feel worse. Might as well have been a completely different person she was talking about. _And mooning over._ Seen through that perspective, she sounded amazing, though. It was clear why even FutureMax would gush over her. Max made her sound like a rockstar.

A motorcycle crept between lanes, narrowly missing her mirror.

To be fair, both FutureMax and FutureChloe had hundreds of years more life experience. Something no one has ever had in the history of ever. In the average person's life, the first twenty years were prep work for living, then there life and work experience for another twenty before anyone could credibly claim to be a real expert in any complex discipline. And maybe another twenty to thirty years as a functioning expert before retirement, infirmity or death. Such a small window. If they really did have centuries or more ahead of them, there was plenty of time to learn and grow and become.

 _So that means I don't have to deal with any of this bullshit right now. Yay._

Made her feel better for about a minute. But it struck at the core of her unresolved issues; something she'd been wrestling with - consciously or not - for years. It wouldn't be that easy to dismiss.

Reading between the lines on some of Max's hints about the future, the world was in for some shit times. Maybe she owed it to them both to be more prepared. Less fucking around feeling sorry for herself, and more finding ways to become someone who could jump in and help. It's what she told herself she wanted - to find a way to carry her weight, and Max's if need be. That was the problem.

Chloe let off the brake, crept haltingly forward. Stopped less than a foot later.

But Max already pointed the way, by sharing her memories of what happened…will happen. At least in one future timeline. Complimentary. Maybe it wasn't about literally backing Max up in a physical fight.

Science. Tech. Bioscience. Math, physics, chemistry, psychology, materials sciences, computer science, robotics, neuroscience, genetics, electro-mechanics, the list went on. Science and tech stuff had always been Chloe's easy favorite. It was how her brain worked - it came natural.

She'd been a straight-A student, without much effort - right up until the accident that took her dad's life. Right up until Max left. Until the pillars of her world fell apart.

Even so, she kept up by watching and reading recreationally. Shows. Magazines. Online. But it had been five years since she'd applied herself to anything. Besides Rachel.

 _Is that what dad would have wanted for me? To give up. Aimless? Angry all the time? He was there in other ways. For a while. But… I was so lost._

She knew it wasn't what her mom had wanted.

Could this future be what they'd want for her instead?

Who did _she_ want to be?

She glanced at Max, curled up on her seat, head rested against the top of her door. Softened. Her eyes brushed over the rising engine-temperature gauge, scanned the unmoving cars ahead.

That part of her life - the sad, lonely, angry, fuck-the-world part - was over the first time she died. It ended the moment Max came back, bringing her new life - figuratively, literally. Chloe saw that like a bright 'before and after' line etched in time.

 _Only so much you can carry over the line with you._

Max had always needed her as much as Chloe needed Max. Nothing changed there. And it sounded like the world, or at least some of the things living in it, were going to need both of them. Maybe it was time to start over. Or start again.

 _Or start at all._

The direction of the breeze changed, delivering exhaust.

Chloe would always carry evidence of the past five years with her. But…Max believed in her - maybe it was time she believed in herself. _Or believe in the Max who believes in you._ She smiled to herself at that. Maybe…believe in a purpose for herself as well? Perhaps that was enough. Enough to one day feel she'd _earned_ the love and reverence she saw on Max's face when she talked about FutureChloe. That wasn't her. Not yet.

And if…if Max _did_ make a trade for Chloe's life, back in Arcadia, it was Chloe who owed an impossible debt to those they left behind - hundreds of people who might otherwise have lived. Their friends, families.

She stared ahead, unfocused, seeing through the cars to some imagined horizon. Her heart hurt.

In the end, if souls continued or whatever - they'd be the ones to judge her. They were the ones who needed to agree that their sacrifices had been worth it. If there was to be any chance for cosmic forgiveness, Chloe had to add hundreds of lives worth of good back into the world.

She rubbed her eyes. Looked behind. Ahead. There wasn't a path to that love, to that forgiveness, that crossed anywhere she'd been before.

She sniffled.

It wouldn't happen all at once. And it wouldn't be easy. It would take years, decades. But the intention, the act of choosing was a start. A beginning.

Or perhaps, a return?

Chloe was a long time gone.

But…that wasn't a blink compared to what might stretch ahead.

She glanced at herself in the rear-view.

Met her own eyes. Stared deeply. Really met them.

For the first time in what had to be a very long time.

Recognized herself.

The watcher inside. The director. The one looking out.

Recognized who she was.

Who she used to be.

Didn't see Max's FutureChloe in herself.

Didn't see a person who added up to more than the cost.

 _You were strong once. What happened?_

 _Everything._

 _It fucking broke me._

 _You were happy. You cared. You tried. You were better than this._

 _I gave up._

 _They expected so much better of you. So did I._

 _But I've lost…years._

 _A few. You have her back and its like she never left you._

 _She deserves better. So much better than me. I'd give anything. Everything. To make it worth it. To earn that look I saw in her eyes._

 _Give yourself. You don't have to stay lost. She chose you._

 _But she deserves better._

 _So_ ** _be_** _better._

 _I…don't….I'm…_

 _So_ ** _be_** _better, Chloe. Try to make up for it. To all of them. For all of it. Don't let it be for nothing. Don't be a user. A fucking loser. Be. Better._

She broke eye contact with herself.

Lifted her head.

Forced herself to lock eyes again.

She felt all of the anger and defiance of her fourteen-year-old-self looking back through the tears of her nineteen-year-old eyes.

 _I'm so fucking done with this._

 _I'm done._

 _I'm done feeling useless._

 _I'm done…being useless._

 _I choose something else._

 _A new path._

 _A new beginning._

 _For me._

 _For Max._

 _For all of them._

 _I…know I'll never make up for it._

 _There is no…making up for any of it._

 _But…I can try anyway._

 _Try to honor them at least?_

 _I have to do_ ** _something_** _._

 _And to do anything, I have to_ ** _be more_** _._

 _More than this._

 _I do._

 _I do._

 _So I fucking choose_ ** _that._**

 _I choose us._

 _I choose everyone who's left. I'm so sorry._

 _I can't do anything less._

 _I won't._

 _Promise._

 _I fucking promise._

She wiped her eyes.

Max stirred beside her, still sleeping.

Causality. Everything would follow into place.

 _Causality - the one thing all observers in a tenseless 4-d frame of reference could agree on._

She remembered that from some documentary on relativity and space-time she saw years earlier. Seemed appropriate.

* * *

 **Max** woke up as they pulled into the hotel in Venice. It was dark out but surprisingly warm for a November evening. Beachside. Salt air. Street lights and crowds. They checked in, got settled and headed down the boardwalk to find food.

As they walked along the boardwalk, their steps crunched over a fine layer of blown beach-sand.

 _Chloe's quiet._

 _Oh. Of course she is, dummy._

 _I feel bad I was conked out all the way down._

 _Must have been a sucky drive through traffic, too._

She caught up, slid her hand into Chloe's.

They passed skate and surf shops, a few beachside bars, tattoo parlors, candy stores, alt clothing shops and bike rentals. On the ocean side, empty tennis courts, outdoor gyms, art walls in the sand, palm trees, friends gathered around bonfires and a lonely skate park. _Have to check that out later._ Farther down the sand, Santa Monica pier glowed like a colorful beacon of pure delight and happiness, Ferris wheel and all. Something from another world.

They'd have to, of course.

But _after_ food.

The periodic crash of Pacific waves added to the ambiance.

It was only seven at night on a Saturday. Nearly everything was open. Max couldn't pick out many obvious tourists, but the locals seemed like they were keeping it plenty busy.

Everyone was pretty casual. Sneakers, jeans, hoodies.

"I like this place Chlo. It feels fun and alive."

Chloe nodded. Quiet. "Me too. It's just like in her pictures. Rachel…in another world, she…could have been out here tonight. We'd have never known. It's so where she was supposed to be. You know, she uh…she grew up a little south of here." Chloe's voice choked.

Max squeezed. "Yeah, you said. I'm sorry, Chloe. I know this is a rough day." Max put her arm around Chloe's waist.

Chloe draped hers over Max's shoulder.

They leaned into each other as they walked.

Max, softly, "Maybe later, we find a way to light a bonfire, pour out some of that whiskey for her. Help her spirit find its way home?"

"You know…it's probably for the best you two didn't meet," Chloe smiled, wiped her eye. "She would have adored you. I would never have had a chance."

Max put her head on Chloe's shoulder. "Maybe. I like to think we all would have found a way to share, though."

A few steps and Chloe pointed. "Hey! Max - there okay?"

Max followed her arm… _Of course._

Corner diner. Sign had a whale on it, tail up. 'Fred's Shack.' Close enough, but far enough. They grabbed menus and two empty chairs at a free cafe table in front.

* * *

 **Chloe** sat in the sand by the fire pit. Someone helpfully left shipping pallets stacked and ready to go. A few concrete graffiti walls loomed to their right, north along the beach. The bright lure of the pier was south. The diner where they'd eaten had faded behind them beyond the sand.

Max headed back to the shops to get three shot glasses, a bottle of Jameson, and some newspaper for kindling. Since there was no chance she'd be mistaken for 21, she planned to do the freeze thing, leaving the money in place of the bottle. Only fair, she said.

Chloe shivered. The air drifted cool and a little damp this close to the ocean. She breathed in the familiar mix of salt air and wood smoke, from other fires. Reminded her of other beaches.

And suddenly, Max! Still weird when she popped in like that, out of nowhere.

Max set down the bottle and a stack of shot glasses, bunched the newspaper up under the pallets.

Chloe did the honors, lit the whole thing on fire. It started slow, but took off after a few minutes, growing in intensity. They had to scoot back a couple feet. Reminded her of another fire, years before. Fitting. Like then, they were only missing the marshmallows.

The flames cast them in a harsh orange, with soft flickering edges fading to black. Ocean waves crashed in the background. The occasional yell or laugh carried over the sand from groups of friends huddled around other bright reefs.

Small embers flirted orange, sparks popped, rode the heat in loops and drifts, flaming out to merge with the trail of white stars overhead.

Chloe, head back, sniffed, "She always loved stars."

Max respected her moment.

The fire continued to grow until it didn't.

Settling pallets celebrated gravity with mini-fireworks.

The radiant heat toasted Max's face, hands, leaving her back feeling colder by contrast.

Chloe cracked the seal on the bottle while Max held up each shot glass in turn for a fill. Chloe took two - one for herself, and one for Rachel - while Max kept her own.

Chloe lifted her glass. Her voice solemn, formal, "To Rachel…you were one in a billion. The world was better with you in it. _I miss you…_ I'll always miss you. Find your way home." She slammed one shot back as she poured the other into the sand before the fire, her face wet. She let go of the inner walls, allowed herself to remember. Feel Rachel's loss, distinct from others. They weren't all happy memories, but they were always real. _She was always real. At least with me._

Max lifted her glass respectfully, slammed back the shot alongside Chloe. Being her first time, she almost choked to death.

"Lightweight," teased Chloe, wiping under her eyes. "No, but seriously, are you okay?"

"I'm good," croaked Max, reinforcing the opposite.

Chloe took Max's glass, refilled it. Did the same for herself and Rachel. She returned two to Max. "Your turn, hippy." Sniffed.

After a brief, considered pause, Max raised her glass. "Rachel, I didn't know you. But you were there, and you watched over our Chloe when I couldn't. I'll always love you for that. And…I've…heard the way people who loved you spoke of you, and I wish we'd gotten that chance. The three of us would have been…something." Max knocked the shot back, Chloe did the same, Max tipped Rachel's out to the beach.

"And now, her watch is over…"

They hugged each other in silence as the fire burned down.

After a half-hour and two more rounds, they left the open bottle of whiskey canted in the sand.

Three shot glasses stood before it, reflecting and refocusing firelight; two empty, one filled.

Missing pilot formation.

Chloe whispered, "Come home, doll."

She and Max left the fire, walked across the beach toward the lights, sniffling.

* * *

 **Max** wasn't ready to go back.

She had one more thing to do tonight.

Had to be tonight.

On the return path to their hotel, DrunkMax sidewaysed them into the open door of one of the beachside tattoo shops.

Chloe followed.

Without a word, Max slid up to the counter, grabbed a piece of paper and pencil. Drew a stylized, but detailed picture of three butterflies circling each other in mid-air. The whole image was three by five inches tall.

Chloe saw the drawing, nodded to herself, slouched in a chair in the waiting area.

Max talked with the artist for half an hour before returning for Chloe. They went over some of his past work samples, her design, the colors, shading and blending and how they had to be just right. The gradients, from light aqua-blue highlights to deep cobalt within the wing segments, the black borders and marks had to be just so.

The details had to be precise.

The artist built on Max's image after they talked, showed it to her. Along with some color mix and gradient samples. It was perfect. Exactly what she had in her head. Better.

She pulled Chloe over. Took her place in the chair, shuffled off her hoodie, while Chloe took the next stool, holding her right hand. The artist applied the outline to her upper right arm, alignment and size checked out, so he fired up his machine and got to work.

The pain wasn't what she expected. It was more and less. Pushed in waves, depending on the detail he was working on and the state of her endorphins at that moment. She went through sweats and a headache as the Jameson worked out of her system. But it was all manageable. Mostly manageable.

She inflicted a few white-knuckle moments on Chloe.

Two water bottles and three and a half hours later, he finished. He spent a portion of that time repeatedly cleaning and remixing for the color blending. But in the end, they were there.

Three blue butterflies.

One each for her, Chloe and Rachel.

One for each of the butterflies she'd encountered in real life.

The ones these were modeled after.

The art was stunning; so much better than she imagined. Chloe was impressed with his work, said it was super cool of him to stay that late to finish. They tipped the artist double what he charged for the tattoo.

He wrapped Max's freshly tattooed arm in cling wrap, tape, and gauze.

She and Chloe shambled back to the hotel.

It was after 2 in the morning, and they were sober and dehydrated. Drained.

Once back in their room, they curled up in spoon formation and called it a night.

* * *

 **Max** thought it made sense when Chloe explained it, but it would never have occurred to her independently. She was a coastal girl all the way. Arcadia Bay. Seattle. Even the trip down to LA hugged the coast. There was something psychologically reassuring about being next to an ocean that Max couldn't explain. "Where did this idea come from?" She cut into her hash browns.

"I've been thinking about it for a while. Not Vegas, but our environment, and how we might use it to our advantage." Chloe shielded her eyes.

The cafe's outdoor sunshades weren't positioned for early morning.

Chloe chopped at her omelet. "You know, they say we process stuff in our sleep. But I checked a few things out while you were in the shower, and it lines up."

Max made a 'wait' gesture. Fished around in her bag, offered Chloe her sunglasses.

"Thanks."

Max, between bites, "You're assuming those bad guys won't give up so easy then? Might eventually figure out where we are?"

"That's _so_ much better." Chloe adjusted the glasses, slurped her coffee. "It's probably just a matter of time, Max. Not like we've been using fake names here. Wouldn't take much. So, where's the best place for us to be to control things, given everything we know, and what you can do?"

A young girl rolled by on a beach cruiser, wetsuit top flopping at her waist. She pulled a trailer behind with an up-angled surfboard.

"That's cool." Max picked up her coffee cup. "Um. Somewhere that doesn't get people around us killed. So…why Vegas? That seems like the opposite of that."

Chloe shrugged. Stabbed a sausage link. "Well, yeah, it's a 24/7 tourist town. So all those people are one drawback. But also an advantage if we use them right. There are tons of people in and out every day, dense crowds, but you can get from one building to another without going outside. Easy to blend in, escape, evade, whatever if it's a foot chase."

"Okay, and if the bad guys want to stay low profile, it's _maybe_ a bad place to try to kidnap someone, I guess."

"Right. Too many tourists around with their phones and cameras. And Vegas has the densest surveillance grid in the world. Probably hackable. Definitely ours to own with enough resource thrown at it." Chloe flashed a mischievous grin.

Max gave Chloe a look. "I've seen that smile before."

Chloe stuck out her tongue. "No, but for real…It's got open roads in four directions, an international airport with flights to _every_ major city in the world. Hello, vacations. Unobstructed views, lots of high rises, good food around the clock. And if push comes to shove, it's open desert on all sides, where you can do your speed-chi-unleashed thing without risking people or buildings or anything." Chloe pinched her screen, held the satellite view up for Max.

"You _have_ given this a lot of thought."

A seagull hopped up on the next table. Stared at Max.

"What?"

It opened its mouth, looked both ways before taking flight.

"Here and there, I guess." Chloe turned her chair, slouched, crossing her legs, ankle over knee. Scanned the horizon. "Look, it's got a stable climate, stable geography, a renewable power source with the dam. And I'd be able to legally carry guns there, so I could defend myself for a change. That's a plus."

"But no green forests. No fuzzy critters?"

They paused as a waiter refilled their coffee cups.

Chloe sipped. "Different environment, different critters. Not everywhere is going to be Oregon or Washington, you know? But you could still make friends with birds and reptiles? Yeah - who're we kidding? We'll be fuckin' bazillionaires, dude. You can build an authentic red panda habitat and round the population out with squirrels and bunnies if you want."

"I…I want that," Max nodded seriously.

Chloe teased, "And if we're feeling adventurous, it's not far from Area 51?"

Max shook her head in protest. "No Chloe. I'm _not_ sneaking us into Area 51."

Chloe, laughing, "Oh, come on! It's _right_ there! Okay, okay. Chill. We'll come back to that one - but I'm telling ya, I'm getting in there one way or another. So…I thought we had a good experience in San Francisco - let's take over the top few floors of a high-rise on the Strip, get a feel. Maybe customize it - we'll have time and money, right? 360 view, rooftop pool, bartender, DJ, anti-missile railgun system, closet full of IronMax suits?"

Max put her cup down without taking a sip. "That might cost tens of millions Chloe. Missiles aside, you think a hotel or office would _really_ let us change their buildings?"

"Probably hundreds of millions. We buy the company that owns the building, and we can do whatever the fuck we want. Plus, make money from the parts of it we're not using." Chloe rescued the last strip of bacon from her plate.

"Okay. See your point." Max drizzled extra butter over the newly exposed layer of waffle grid.

"This could be the model for our total kickass pirate fort from the future Max. Like for reals. If it were just us, open future, no complications, a loft in Seattle with you near your parents would be my vision of heaven. But we have enemies, apparently. In addition to a real mission now that will probably make us more, if you think about it."

Max, more serious. "Ah. So that's where you're head's at?"

"Can't be too careful." Chloe swallowed the last of her bacon. "And we'll have a lot of time, but it's probably not unlimited. With your visions and all. We don't know all the players or moving parts yet, right?"

"True. Okay - so a more serious approach that we design gives the bad guys - whoever they are - fewer options. And the remaining options are the ones we can anticipate and have a better chance of controlling?"

"Yep."

"I knew strategy games would pay off eventually."

"Exactly. And then we run a global empire from the sky above Sin City. It's fucking poetry, Max. We wouldn't have to stay there only and forever - we could replicate it if we wanted."

"Other cities? Like Paris?"

"Sure - why not." Chloe wiped her hands, threw her napkin on her plate. "We could have similar setups in New York, London, Tokyo, Mumbai, wherever. Just move around. We'll need helicopters, pilots. Private jets even? But we control our security. Shit - we could buy out security companies! Or private contractor companies or whatever they call them. Fuck Max - you really could have an army."

 _I don't know._ Took Max a moment to realize the black dots bobbing up and down on the water were surfers, not birds. Returned her attention to Chloe. "I'm not sure it will come to all of that, but it can't hurt to be prepared, I guess. If it'll make you feel safer or…more in control, all the better. Sitting here, I can't think of a single argument against any of it Chloe. I mean, long-term we're talking. It fits with everything we've been talking about."

"Cool. And while we're doing all that, we start shaking things up here and there. Use some of this fortune for good. Or at least try to disable some of the most obvious bad."

Gave Max an idea. "We could buy out companies around the world doing shitty things, refocus them on useful things. Funnel money into projects that would positively impact our futures. Maybe channel some R&D to things we know we'll need. We'd need to stay behind the scenes, but I think lawyers can do that with corporate structures and stuff right?"

"That's what I'm talking about Max. We could legit build an empire. An army. A space fleet. Anything. Shit - tired of people killing whales? We buy up the whaling ships and turn them into ocean research vessels for real. Study worms and vents and shit. Buy out the shipbuilders and prevent anyone from building a new whaling fleet. Think it's bad to have half the world's food seeds patented and controlled by one company? Buy 'em and open source it, or fund the competition. Whatever. Like capitalist anarchy. Capitalarchy? Is that a thing?"

Max laughed. "I don't think that means what you think it does. But I understand what you're saying. And if we're tired of politicians selling out and doing things that don't benefit the people they represent, maybe we buy them back?"

Chloe looked at her phone. "Sure. We have unlimited cash, and lifetimes to play with. And we, or you, know the rough outlines of some of the bad shit that's coming - we could change the future Max. For reals."

"That is the job, right? I mean, this can't all be for no reason. Can it?"

Chloe sat up. Locked eyes with Max. "You already saved me. You wanted to flip the scale for the planet? I've always said we should take over the freakin' world. It's like we talked about as kids. Like we talked about at your parent's house weeks ago. Only instead of us making just enough money to disappear into a comfortable life for ourselves, we make enough to make things better for everyone. You know, while trying to prevent the super nasty shit. This is how we do it. This morning. One decision. It starts with Vegas. And I can have us there in six hours. Four, if we don't get pulled over."

 _She's not wrong._

"I gotta say, this feels like the right move, Chlo. So…what? Vegas, baby?"

"Finish your breakfast first. But yeah…" Chloe rolled her eyes. "Okay. Fine. Vegas, baby!"

"Hehe."


	9. Fundamentals

**Chloe** stuck her fingers in her ears, shouted, "Let 'er rip Max!"

Max leaned into the desert wind. Looked over her shoulder, smiled and rolled her eyes. She felt around for the start button on the GoPro stuck to the middle of her forehead. Shouted, "This is super stupid! I'm blaming you when it goes horribly wrong!"

Chloe, fingers in her ears, grinning like a child, nodded enthusiastically.

 _No idea what she's saying._

She'd listen to the recording later. Too excited for the sonic booms to roll over her again. The first one knocked her on her ass. She was more prepared for the second, body prone, elbows anchored against the hard-packed silt.

 _It's one thing to hear Max describe what she's doing. But way different to feel it thunder through my chest. Holy shit - she has so much raw fucking power. Is it wrong how much this turns me on?_

Max found the button, turned away from Chloe, stilled herself.

Her open hoodie billowed with each gust.

She vanished.

Reappeared over a hundred feet away with a bright blink.

 **BOOOOOOOM!**

A low haze of dust drummed up from the ground, carried away from the line she'd traveled, expanding outward in a supersonic oval ring. Shockwaves crashed and echoed across the desert floor.

Chloe opened a dirt-encrusted eye as the grit continued to fall.

 _Okay. Not the smartest place, I guess. But fucking hell, that was badass! It's hard to believe all she's doing is walking in slow-mo through the MaxTime Continuum._

Max followed up with two more runs, experimenting with distance. The first was soundless. She wasn't anywhere, then was suddenly somewhere else. The second was the same, but she stopped farther away. No booms.

Max made her way back to Chloe, both of them covered in dust from her initial runs. "Sorry," Max gestured toward the Range Rover.

"Why? What's wrong?" Chloe stood, dusted her knees.

"Killed the car. And…stuff. I had to rewind after the last snap."

Chloe didn't see anything weird. "We're calling these 'snaps' now? Okay. Uh. What happened?"

Max shook her head. "Fucked up bad, Chlo. Missed the tuning. Went relativistic on that last one. I was too much in the world I guess. Crater was maybe a mile across? We were both dead. Well, you were. And the poor car… Guess I would've been, but the death-detection auto-rewind safety thingy kicked in. Which…you know…handy?"

Chloe huffed. "You fucking killed me? Again? _Dammit, Caulfield!_ That's twice in two days!"

Max cringed. "I said I was sorry. And I also said this was a really stupid idea. I blame you. Bright side, there's a real possibility I'm not killable with that safety auto-rewind working. Which means you're not either since I'd never let you stay dead. But…let's not experiment in that direction any more today?"

Chloe leaned against the Rover. "Nice bonus on the extra lives. But for reals dude - you need better control when you're doing your Flash thing. The only way you're gonna get better is practice. It's not stupid - it's necessary. Unless you can sudden-expert it?" she asked hopefully.

"Tried snapping blind, hoping for an epiphany. No luck." Max shrugged.

"Well, too bad it can't all be Chinese language skills and tai chi, right?"

"I guess. I'm feeling _something_ though. The edges of it." Max ran her fingers through her hair. A fresh puff of dust diffused.

Chloe clicked the remote in her pocket, opening the tailgate. "Okay - time out. Let's analyze before the next round while I prep your drone. What was different between the first one, with the nice fluffy shockwave, and the one where you vaporized your dear and true love in a fiery ball of sadness?"

Max gave Chloe a sharp look before answering. "Ehn. I think I was right yesterday. There's a balancing trick to it that I'm not getting."

"Like with the three seashells?" Chloe pulled the drone case from storage, leaned across to swap in fresh batteries.

"Chloe! No - be cereal. Help me figure this out. As far as I can tell, my brain always seems to work at normal speed to me, no matter what I do. The trick is to slow my body way down when I move while holding the world at a near stop - but not to the point of a complete freeze. Things change if I go full freeze, and I can't affect much of anything. Anyway, I kinda feel like that part of it comes more natural. Like I did by instinct back in Seattle the first time. Although that still wasn't controlled and I ended up hurting you. Along with—"

Chloe looked up from her work. "Better you than them. Okay. Where do you think it's breaking down? Why did you get the _big_ boom all of a sudden?"

Max stuck her hands in her pockets. "It's still too tricky to keep all three reference frames perfectly balanced over a long period of MeTime. But the real problem is controlling how…I guess how far, or how much, I'm a part of, or in, reality while all that's going on? Dimension? I don't know. I know the feeling of it, but not what to call it. Immersion maybe?"

"Um. Like maybe how much of you is immersed or embedded in our space?" Chloe secured the new battery with a snap.

"Something like that. It's like resistance. But not like in water. You get the idea anyway. If I'm too deep in the world, the heat and pressure feel like they pile up, grow exponentially as the difference in total speed between me and the world increases. And so does the power and damage from it. It's hard though, cause everything's fine until it's suddenly, horribly not. That edge is so tiny, and I can't see it until after I'm back." Max looked out to the horizon.

Chloe flipped the drone, carried it to an empty patch of dirt. "Okay. Following so far. It makes sense. The more _here_ you are, the bigger the effects of variables between different frames of reference."

Max shrugged. "Your way is more sciencey. In the other direction, if I'm too far back from the world, I slip through like I'm not even here. Might as well be walking in a total freeze, like I told you about with Kate. Fine for stealth exits, I guess. But it's a fine line once I'm out of a total freeze. It's like I'm trying to ride this balance between speed, friction, inertia, and substance. But from multiple time perspectives." Max shrugged, sat on the ground opposite Chloe. Used a squeeze-bulb and soft cloth from the case to help clean dust from the lens.

"A lot of moving parts to process." Chloe picked up the remote. "I wanna see the footage from the MaxCam - see what you see. Do you think the camera speed syncs to your brain or your body? Oh! And I hope the crater footage survived the rewind. It should, right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Cool. Might see something. Anyway, back to coaching. Maybe…okay - try to think of it like this. Try thinking about what you want to have happen, and trust your body, mind and your power to get you there. Like you almost had in Seattle. Instead of trying to control every single variable in your head, you know? Or okay - maybe…like this. Remember when we were first learning to ride bikes, and you kept face-planting over and over into the shrubs for like two whole weeks?" Chloe chuckled.

"Sorta? That was so long ago, Chlo. I'm surprised you remember."

"Dude, you're 18. It wasn't _that_ long ago. And I remember _because it was fucking hilarious_. Anyway. Whatever. So when you were trying really hard to concentrate on riding a bike in the beginning, what happened? What was it like?"

Max picked up the drone, followed Chloe away from the Rover. "I didn't know how yet, so I was probably thinking about all the things that could go wrong. And trying to pedal, steer, balance upright, while not hitting things or getting squished by cars. And I didn't want anyone to laugh at me. I didn't want to scratch my bike. Falling hurt. And then, every time I crashed, it was like telling my parents I didn't care enough about their present to take good care of it. Like I was letting everyone down."

Chloe turned, walking backward. "Too much pressure, too many distractions. You were so focused on getting all the little things right in so many directions, you couldn't. One thing went out of balance and boom! You'd crash. See the pattern?" She faced front. "Last time you rode a bike, did you crash?"

"Course not." Annoyed.

Chloe pushed. "Why not?"

"Obviously, I know how to ride now."

Chloe stopped, poked Max's forehead. "Right. But what were you _thinking about_ while riding?"

"Hey. Ow." Max stopped, set the drone between them. "I don't know. My day? Where I was going? What song was on? Hoping I wasn't gonna get squished by a cab or bus? Hoping I didn't eat a bug?"

"Right. Try that."

"Try what? Thinking about riding a bike?"

Chloe stepped back. "No, dumbass - think about where you want to go. What you want to have happen. Pick a point - go there. Done. You do that fine now, so it shouldn't be hard. _This is about letting go to get control._ The _big_ change to try - visualize what you want to have happen on the way. _Not how. What_. Do you want to stop quietly? Do you want to stop and knock everything over? Do you want to stop and kill the dinosaurs again? Ignore all the mechanisms and other bullshit. Nothing deeper - keep it that simple."

"Huh. K?" Max backed away from Chloe and the drone.

Chloe flipped the power switch. "Humor me. Just try it. If it doesn't work, you can go back to flopping around."

Max stopped, held her ground. "Hey - don't be shitty, Chloe. I'd like to see you try this."

"Sorry - don't mean to be. But sometimes you need a kick." _Sorry I'm treating you like this Max - I don't mean any of it. But I know you - sometimes you need a hard push out of your comfort zone. Or anxiety zone. Best friends. Coach duties. Remember diving, in fourth grade? I'll make it up to you later. Swear. Acting like the sidekick you need, even if I don't seem like the one you deserve._

"Still. Whatever. Don't be mean, Chlo. This shit isn't easy. Okay. So, I won't think about everything, just where I want to go and what happens on the way."

"Yep. Two variables. That's it."

"What if I fuck it up?"

"Really? Rewind. Go nuts. You got this. Oh hey - and Max - if you can, try to get some video of the sonoluminescence trail you were talking about. I'd love to see that in MaxTime. See how it compares to submarine cavitation. Want to see if it is what you think it is."

"K. I'll try. No promises though."

* * *

 **Chloe** parked the drone a few hundred feet up for the bird's eye view.

Max wanted to see what it looked like from outside as much as Chloe wanted the view from Max's camera. They got a dozen runs in before the drone batteries died. Not as long as they wanted, but the winds took a toll.

After packing the tech up, Chloe grabbed a beer, made some notes while Max continued her practice.

Once Max let go, started to relax and have fun with it, things went a lot better. She finally reeled in with a pop. "I'm beat."

Chloe tossed her a bottle of water from the tailgate cooler. "It's only 2."

Max caught it. Groaned.

"Kidding! Hug?"

"Yes. The hugging now, please." Max twisted off the cap, took a swig.

Chloe, legs dangling off the tailgate, pulled Max. Wrapped around her. "Sorry I was a dick earlier."

"It's okay Chlo. I knew what you were doing. I've been the other half of this friendship for a while, remember?" Max nuzzled Chloe's neck. "You smell like desert."

Chloe sniffed. "You too. And…thanks. But still. I don't like being that way with you. I do have to try hard if it makes you feel any better?"

"A little. But I listened to what you said, and it helped. So…thanks, coach." Max rubbed Chloe's back.

"Feel like you're getting a handle on it?"

"Yeah. It's not perfect, but I feel progress. Going is easy. Being careful - or intentionally destructive, is hard. I need more practice. Vegas was the right idea; no way we could do this back in Seattle. I'd have to rewind after every attempt, and I'd feel too terrible about all of the collateral squirrel deaths and deforestation. Even if they were only temporary."

"We'll work out your training plan for the next few months. Once you feel like you know how to stick the landings reliably, we should try out a few other things."

"Like what?"

"Finesse. Curved paths, crossfading from low to high immersion mid-snap, or vice versa to control where on the path things go boom and how hard? Not the whole path, but maybe just the start, or middle, or end for different circumstances? Focused shockwaves to the sides maybe? All the things. We should also see how much weight you can safely move when you're in MaxTime. What happens when you throw a tennis ball forward? Or shoot a gun? At different speeds? Can you use a sword without creating a blade of nuclear air-fusion? Like does it become a part of your field of MaxTime, half in half out, or is it operating on WorldTime and taking the full hypersonic air-blast? Ooh! And we should totally see if you can break boards by punching the air in front of them. That would be so Bruce Lee, dude!"

Max laughed. "We'll get there. I could probably do some of that now, but you know, not with predictable control. Fundamentals first. Then flourishes."

Chloe squeezed. "Ooh! Question - how does gravity feel when you're moving?"

"I'll have to pay attention to that next time. Still works? I think it's normal? It's like jogging in slow motion from my perspective. No resistance - or else it's like trying to run in syrup, depending on speed, how in our out I am.

"Could you pass through things by shifting to low immersion? What happens if you jump up? Do you think you could leap tall buildings?" _Please please please!_

Max chuckled, "I have no idea. In a freeze it's like I bump into things, but can't interact exactly; standing electrostatic wave polarity interference between quantized Planck frames? Does that make sense to you? Anyway, I don't think I go through things on that end of the spectrum. I definitely would at high immersion, but we're not trying to make a sun on the earth, so that's prolly a pass. I'll have to try jumping though. But what if I'm able to jump high? What happens when I come back down? Or holy shit - if I can't come back down? What if I orbit? That would be fucking scary, and probably an unpleasant death."

"I bet you could control all of that Max. I mean, don't go all Icarus or anything. Start small. But time is a factor in almost every relevant equation. Either directly, or buried in measures like velocity or force. Another variable is that you're fucking with thermo and hydrodynamics with the immersion depth part - it's not all or nothing, so I don't even know where to begin. But you're rebalancing all of this now with this practice. Something for another day. Wanted to plant the seeds. You'll never know what you can do until you push. And remember, this is just the physical stuff. Be open to discovering new powers too."

"Got it. Thanks again, Coach Price."

"I like that we're still hugging, by the way." Chloe nuzzled.

Max shook her head. "You're hugging. I'm leaning."

"You're hugging."

"Fine. Busted." Max gave her a quick kiss. "Blech. Dust."

"Shower later. Enough exertion for you today, anyway. Your turn to play coach?"

"Shooting range time?"

Chloe let go of Max with her arms, fell back, reaching for the roll of paper targets. "Pretty pleeease?"

"You just want to play with your new toys."

"At least zero the new optics. I mean, hells yes I want to play with my new toys!" Chloe grinned.

Max took another drink. "Okay - go set up your targets, scrub. Let me refresh."

* * *

 **Max** felt pretty good, all things considered.

Chloe'd been pulling that _'Douche Chloe, Motivation Expert'_ act on her a few times a year since third grade. Discounting a handful of missing years, anyway. Max overreacted in the moment mostly to keep up appearances. Made Chloe feel good to help, so Max always rolled with her technique. Even as kids. Gave enough resistance so Chloe felt like she was getting under her skin, having to work for it.

Understanding the science, implications, and possibilities were Chloe territory anyway, so Max accepted her input without second-guessing.

She was also a semi-functional adult. Knew by now that learning and growing took a willingness to evaluate herself and where she was with a level of critical discomfort.

Max always used to get stuck there, and not go any further. Paralysis. Chloe, in her way, tried to help Max break past that. It was impossible to maintain her average level of personal skepticism about her capabilities when she could so naturally do the things she could do now. She needed ideas and direction maybe but didn't lack for confidence on that score.

But she still felt that vague uncertainty with other things about herself from time to time.

 _Still human. I hope._

She shivered, zipped her hoodie.

They'd only been coming out here to play for a couple days, although they'd been in Vegas a few weeks.

 _Still November. Barely. Probably couldn't have come out sooner with everything going on. Stock market, lawyers, architects, designers, bankers, instructors. Plus, all four cork boards full of timelines and structures and clues. Turkey Day coming up in a couple of days. Jeeze. Where does time go?_

 _You did not just think that, Max._

Max opened the passenger door, climbed in to escape the wind. Warm up.

Her turn to play coach. Or ammo conservator. She wasn't sure yet.

 _Have to see how Chloe does. Let's hope there are no killy ricochets today._

She'd spent some time over the past week watching gun videos over Chloe's shoulder. Some about learning to shoot, marksmanship, cleaning, basics. And a few videos comparing specific makes and models when Chloe was in her research phase. It was all pretty technical, and a lot less batshit political than she expected.

Even if she wasn't fond of guns pointing at her, she was less afraid of them than she had been. Demystification helped.

 _They're tools. Lethal tools, but people are in that mix too._ Her ability to freeze time and the prospect of immortality took the edge off if she was honest.

But being wounded would still hurt like a bitch. And she'd probably carry the bullet damage back in a rewind, so no help there. _Might need a photo jump for that sort of thing. Or wait it out and heal._

She'd adopted the casual habit of taking at least one new picture every day since they'd arrived in Vegas. To minimize the amount of lost time, and increase options if she ever needed to jump back for any reason. Didn't mention it to Chloe. Wasn't trying to hide it either. It was just something she started doing without much thought.

 _Safety first._

Chloe finally wandered back to the Rover. She set the targets up every twenty-five yards, out to a distance of a hundred. Spread a blanket on the hard ground, uncased three of her new weapons, laying them out with boxes of ammo, beanbags and a bottle of water.

Max watched her familiarize herself with the manuals for each before they left, so she wasn't too worried. And Chloe already took the time to customize them with various stick-on attachments. Mounting scopes and stuff mostly, roughly aligning them by peeking down the barrels. She said it would be close enough to hit a few targets so that she could make adjustments from there.

Chloe had done everything but fire and clean them.

Max jumped out, closed the door. _This should be interesting._

* * *

 **Chloe** 's heart raced. These weren't David's old revolvers.

 _Polymer bullpup party for the win._ She'd try to get the excitement out of her system with the first bunch of shots, then get down to business.

First up was the Tavor, a compact Israeli rifle. It was designed for tight indoor spaces or inside vehicles. Felt like the right size to Chloe. All three guns did.

So many she'd held, big AR or AK-style carbines, were too long and unwieldy for her body. The style she gravitated toward was shorter overall while retaining the same barrel lengths for bullet velocity and accuracy. And with most of the weight close to her body, they weren't hard to carry or hold.

Before they left, she loaded up a few 30-round magazines and mounted a new Elcan optic on the top rail. It was a military hybrid sight that could act as a red dot for close range, or with a lever throw, turn into a 4x magnified scope to push out farther. The optics cost more than the rifle, but money wasn't a thing they had to think about anymore.

 _Perks of dating a time-traveling godzillionaire. Still getting used to this._

She took a moment to make sure the weapon was safe, inserted a magazine and reached underneath and behind to release the bolt. It snapped into position with a springy metallic thunk, loading the first round into the chamber. She'd seen it done in tons of videos online, but this was the first time she felt it. It wasn't unpleasant.

"First target. 25 yards. Max - you're on spotter duty. Eyes and ears." They'd both had fun misusing all the jargon they'd learned over the past week. Max adjusted her safety goggles and ear protection. Chloe had a sound suppressor on order, but that would take a little longer.

"Check," shouted Max, looking ridiculous and adorable in her oversized electronic earmuffs and polycarbonate glasses. She had binoculars around her neck, her hair in a ponytail, hoodie zipped, and freshly re-blued streaks in her bangs. Blowing in the wind.

"Safety off." Chloe jerked the trigger. Too hard. Too fast. The round sailed off into the desert air. _Ouch._ She'd even taken the time to remove the second spring inside the trigger pack so it wasn't so hard to pull. She was the one missing wildly, not the rifle.

"That didn't hit anything," Max yelled unhelpfully. "Maybe aim nearer the target thingie this time. Try to look through the tube part you look through?"

"Asshole!" Chloe shouted back.

 _Breathe. Calm. Line up. Let your breath out halfway, hold. Between heartbeats. Squeeze, don't pull. How hard can all of that be? Don't anticipate the—_

 **BANG!**

 _…gun going off._ _That didn't kick much at all._

"It's up and to the left. Fire off a few more."

Chloe repeated the process for five more rounds, Max called out the average center, and Chloe made adjustments to her scope. A couple more times and she pushed it out to 50 and finally to 100 yards. Chloe felt like she'd aligned the optics as good as they were gonna get. The weapon could supposedly do two-inch groupings at 100 yards, but she was only getting fifteen inches with a few misses.

 _Operator error._

Chloe was still new at this whole thing, it was windy, and like Max, it would take practice to get better at the basics. But in a pinch, she could probably hit a person-sized object with at least a few rounds at half that distance.

 _Have to start somewhere. And here's hoping I never have to._

They moved on to the next weapon, a Desert Tech covert sniper rifle in .338. Designed for military and law enforcement snipers in urban environments, it was a slower firing, more precise weapon with a five round magazine. Bolt action. Way more accurate out of the box, but bone-crunching recoil from the massive rounds and powder load. And as little as it weighed, she'd feel all of it in her shoulder.

She extended the bipod at the nose.

It had a full-length barrel, even though the rifle was only a touch over two feet long. Half the size, just as accurate. Once she had the scope dialed in, she was able to hit the ten-inch steel plates at 100 yards reliably. The weapon itself was capable of 1/2 inch groupings at 100 yards with a good shooter and quality ammo, but Chloe wasn't there. Not yet.

Still, she was proud she could hit the little gong over and over. Jaunty ding.

Slower was better. She could probably hit a head at fifty yards if it weren't moving. And if there was no wind. That was a whole other level of technical she still had to learn and practice. Baby steps. She saw somebody complaining online about Coriolis Effects at long range. The rotation of the earth wasn't even close to something she had to think about. For now, it was enough to get the scopes mostly pointed in the right direction.

The final weapon was a short shotgun. KSG. Hell of a kick.

Max fidgeted, hovered.

Chloe stopped. "What's up?"

"Time check, babe. It's nearly four. Sun'll be heading down soon, and we have a 5 o'clock with the architects back at the temp fort. We both need food and a shower."

Chloe pushed up. "Cool. Let's pack it up. I can finish this later."

She had a simple micro dot on the shotgun and could get that on paper at any indoor range in the city. And realistically, if anything ever went down, she was most likely to use the handgun she concealed in her front belt.

They bundled everything into the Rover and headed back to Fort Temporary.

* * *

 **Max** was sleepy, even if it was only 9 pm.

She and Chloe met with the architects and builders working on their new permanent fort to go over a few tricky bits - like the steel reinforcing needed for the all-glass rooftop pool. And all the additional engineering work and cost of hardening the structure, replacing exterior glass windows with hybrid ballistic replacement materials, the new escape tunnels in the extended sub-basement levels, energy generation and storage, and so on.

And the permits to demolish streets and consolidate the surrounding city blocks into one large campus. Never mind the interior designs and furnishings. Another case where most of the builder's concerns were around money, but Max & Chloe didn't share those concerns. Full steam ahead.

It was a brand new forty-story building four miles east of McCarran. Shaped like three blocky spokes around a large center axis, seen from above. No tenants. They bought it through a shell company for just over a billion dollars the prior week. Financed through another shell for tax reasons. They expected to put another four hundred million into it before it was finished. A portion of that was the rush. Extra costs of having all of the work done within the next three months. They had three crews going around the clock, with subcontractors on overtime as needed. It would probably be complete in four. _End of March, early April._

After their team left, Chloe went out to the kitchen to tinker, leaving Max in their War Room. They cleared the furniture from one of the suite's bedrooms a week before to use as a temporary office and workspace. Gave it a fancy name.

Max left the drawings on the fort-planning cork board but uncovered the other three. Turning to the future timeline board, she wrapped a final red strand of yarn around a push pin and tied it off. Stepped back to take in the big picture. _Pictures_ , she thought, looking around the room.

On each wall was a five by ten-foot board, dedicated to separate topics.

 _So many info-gaps._

 _Some things are easier to work with analog though. String. Sticky notes. Pens._

The north wall was a vague, sparsely populated timeline of the future, as much as they could piece together from Max's memories.

The south was everything they knew about the group who tried to grab them in Seattle. Wasn't much, but that cork board seemed blankly optimistic.

The east wall was dedicated to mockup floor plans, preliminary architectural renderings and the first draft structural redesigns for the new fort.

The west cork board was a starter map of companies that grabbed their attention, for good reasons or bad, along with a developing org chart of their new web of enterprises.

They had a busy couple of weeks getting organized and setting everything in motion. A call to a random corporate law firm in New York the first morning they were in town started the ball rolling on the empire side. They didn't even try to pretend that they knew what they were talking about, which worked out surprisingly well. This particular firm had a lot of tech startup clients, so they were used to working with young, inexperienced founder teams with buttloads of cash. They were informative and helpful without being dicks about it.

Max & Chloe explained away their already sizable cash reserve by claiming a distant aunt of Chloe's left her an old money inheritance when she passed. Curiosity box ticked, their team set them up with a few different corporate entities, establishing a network of related subsidiaries and structures in six countries to start. Incorporations, bank accounts, tax IDs, everything legit. Through the law firm, they hired a few key employees to handle the day to day operations and had access to a full network of accountants, tax attorneys, investment bankers, and other outsourced service providers to businesses and wealthy clients. Max & Chloe were invisible on paper, with the law firm administering that portion of their holdings through a trust.

They had similar arrangements with a handful of other law firms, none of whom were aware of the others, or the different groups of holdings. Chloe hijacked wireless networks from miles away for the encrypted calls and online setups using nothing but a Pringles tube and a few wires. Just in case. Compartmentalization. She'd learned that from some movie or another.

The first law firm hooked them up with the architectural firm, who in turn managed the builders. It was a system that didn't require Max or Chloe to do much besides make decisions about what they wanted. Which is what they wanted.

Their fortune also reached a critical mass where its growth became self-sustaining. The first week in Vegas was a busy one for Max especially, setting all that up. So many jumps, rewinds, and trades across a large number of accounts and as many international markets. Too much coffee. Not enough sleep. She could still add to it any time if she wanted. But she didn't need to. Barring global catastrophe, they probably couldn't spend money fast enough to outpace the growth if they tried. Maybe.

 _Some work accomplished, but so many more missions to go._

"Ahem."

Chloe leaned against the doorway, wearing an almost-long-enough t-shirt, a bowl of ice cream in each hand. "Dessert?"

"I want that. But what's the ice cream for?" Max gave her an evil little smile.

"You. I like you. Come on dorkface. Follow. You. Me. Roof. Hot tub. Now?"

Max kissed her as she walked out, stealing a bowl while she had Chloe distracted.

"Thief!" Chloe shouted as Max ran out the front door. Max ran down the hallway but slowed to wait for Chloe by the elevator. Chloe caught up a few seconds later, and they both piled in. They had exclusive access to the top two floors and the roof deck for the four months they'd be here. Armed private security contractors were stationed two levels down, watching the stairwells and perimeter to ensure it.

The elevator door opened. They exited to the cold, wintery desert rooftop wearing far too little, holding only ice cream.

"Shit! That seemed like such a smooth idea in my head," shivered Chloe, running toward the hot tub on the other side of the roof.

"Is it warm?" Max came up behind Chloe, wide awake.

Chloe dropped to give the water a feel. Set her ice cream on the edge, threw off her shirt and quickly walked in naked. She ducked down into the steaming water. Her face made that 'ahhhhhhhhhhh' look as the last of her shivers left her. She poked at the control panel until the spa lights came on and the jets started up.

Max, meanwhile, hopped up and down on one leg by a table, trying to get out of her jeans.

Chloe laughed, "You are a picture of poise and grace, my dear."

"Bite me, Price."

"Too easy."

Max finally managed to get control of her wardrobe, cast the last of it aside. She regarded Chloe. Stilled for a moment, naked under the light. One knee bent slightly. Calmly, deliberately and very slowly, she walked toward the hot tub. "You were saying?" Her nipples stood at attention in the night air. Chloe's eyes were on her. Max reached the edge and stepped into the water, sank slowly, turning in a tight circle until her head was the only thing above the jets. "You got nothing? No wisecracks, wisecracker?"

"I…got nothin'."

"Not entirely true." Max floated over to Chloe, put her arm out to guide them both to the far edge, overlooking the strip and city lights. "You've got all these bubbles. And this hot water. You've got that ice cream. You've got me. We've got this view?"

"So basically everything then?"

"Essentials."

Chloe floated close, kissed Max's neck and earlobe. Nibbling, she whispered close, "You realize we're fucked if we try to get out of this water, right?"

Max sank a little more, whispering back, "Oh. Shit. _Towels?"_

"We are not smart."

"Stuck here 'til the sun comes up then."

"Sounds like," Chloe said with a resigned tone.

"However will we occupy ourselves?" Max dragged her fingertips up Chloe's thighs, healed butterfly tattoo glistening just above the waterline.

She didn't get a verbal answer.

* * *

 **Chloe** relaxed in the chaise on the roof, reading a textbook on introductory calculus. It was morning, mid-50s with clouds and a light wind. She bundled up with a light jacket and sweater, a hot chocolate on a small table beside her. She smiled at their antics the night before, glanced over the top of her book to watch Max at her morning practice.

'Practice' wasn't the right word, exactly. Max had been a charmingly uncoordinated goofball since she and Chloe were toddlers, but this new aspect of her was anything but. Her movements were beautiful. Purposeful. Graceful even, despite last night's teasing. Her minimalism masked her deadly potential. And that was when she was moving normally through time and space.

"Sweep the leg, Johnny!" Chloe shouted.

Max ignored her. Or maybe wasn't aware of her at all. It was hard to tell. Sometimes when Max came up here, she lost the world, almost frozen in place. Others, it was like watching a spinning ballet of fury and pain. Flip a coin. Both were sexy.

A few days back, they'd flown out a couple of Chinese martial arts teachers for consultations - to determine if what she was doing mapped to any particular discipline or style. All part of piecing together what happened with her memories.

Max was confident in the general notion that tai chi was involved, but that was a pretty wide range to pick from. And was still a guess from someone who had never, in this timeline, studied any martial arts. It would be instructive to have confirmation from people who knew what they were doing, who could tell them if what Max was doing was from a real practiced art. And if so, which it might be. Clues.

After spending half a day with her, watching her and engaging in sparring and push hands exercises, they both reached similar conclusions. First, there wasn't a lot either felt they could teach her. Max's feel for movement - hers and theirs - was expert and intuitive. Anticipation, the give and take.

Her forms weren't textbook, and her style fluidly mixed and matched from a wide variety of different martial arts. But the way she moved in the moment, and her choice of linked forms was perfect for her body specifically, and for the task at hand, whatever that might be. Her center of gravity, her mass, her flexibility, muscle tone and intention worked together with her hybrid personalization of styles in normal space and at normal speed. None of her movements relied on any physical body conditioning whatsoever. Almost as if she'd assembled her style and trained her mind to fight in an untrained, unconditioned body.

 _Which makes perfect sense if you know you may need to fight in your body as it was at any point in history._ Chloe was pretty sure all of this was by design. Max's. Or at least some version of Max. That was a clue, if not a real answer.

Still no answer to the question of how or why she knew anything at all or had any inkling of the future timeline. Or if that future was even still real with the changes to Max and their awareness of it.

They both voiced suspicions over the past few weeks on the why. Maybe Max jumped back from the future, stopping in at the drive away the storm, stayed for a minute, leaving some residual imprint behind when she returned? Or perhaps FutureMax found a way to send back skills and a warning without consciousness. Or there was just a failed jump or something unexpected happened? Or a version of Max - from this future or another reality altogether, simply became lost in time, fragmented, bits of personhood scattering across time and space to connect with the nearest Maxes they could find; each of a billion Maxes in different realities and possible timelines getting only a handful of random memories? Who knew?

But all their ideas seemed to share a common thread. Something happened in a distant future to cause memories and a few skills to show up in HereAndNowMax. A little more than a week after she discovered she could rewind time at all.

Or was that all part of the same thing? Was all of it - from the first Blackwell bathroom rewind to the present shockwave experiments and future timeline cork board - all part of the same uninterrupted progression? Did she get her powers directly from a future version of herself? Along with a handful of memories? Wasn't a causal loop like that impossible?

It was all just bullshit speculation without more info. And they didn't have much more yet. In time they might. Or they may have to accept that it would be a mystery, see what happened in 300+ years. That thought was both comforting and supremely annoying to Chloe.

She took a sip of hot cocoa, as a tall bald man in a grey overcoat appeared out of thin air behind Max, with a gun.


	10. Branch

**Chloe** dropped her mug and book, threw her body forward, drew her pistol and aimed it at the bald man. Before she could fire her weapon or scream her warning, her life ended.

* * *

 **Max** heard a sickening crunch of wet bone and meat behind her as a needle plunged into her neck. A distant rifle cracked. As she fell, world closing, Chloe lay dead. A hole in her head, the back half missing.

For Max, there was only darkness as her ears popped.

* * *

 **Michaels** shot up from his chair, hands on his head, staring blankly at the screens on the big wall. Found his voice. "What the _fuck_ just happened?!"

The cavernous operations center exploded into a buzz of activity.

Their ops staff tripled in size in recent weeks, continuing to grow as they learned more about Max - and as budget, interest, and attention from 'higher up' increased.

Samuel jogged in from the hallway, spilling coffee. "Status please."

One of the operators ran a dozen cameras back while another addressed Samuel's question in barest terms. Only seconds passed.

"Price and Caulfield were on the roof doing their morning routine. A bald man appeared behind Caulfield. Price's head exploded, the man grabbed Caulfield and literally vanished. Top two floors of the hotel are currently on fire."

Phones rang, foot traffic in and out increased.

"Fucking hell. They killed Chloe—" Michaels swept folders and his laptop off his desk and across the room in an angry fit. "Fuck." He dropped into his chair.

He knew the job, their mission, how things might go. Knew to keep distance. But he'd spent more than a month on direct surveillance of the girls, immersed in every aspect of their lives. Histories, personality profiles, social deconstructions, conversations, recordings, emails, texts - everything.

It was rare to crawl into the life of an average, everyday person and not pick up on the good in them. Most people were decent, likable. The ones who weren't scumbags, anyway. Max and Chloe were no exceptions. Likable kids on the receiving end of a powerful gift they didn't ask for.

He didn't realize how much he'd grown to like them as people. _Chloe was funny as shit. Max is one of the sweetest, most sarcastic—_ "Fuck!" _And they were so…poor Max._ Aloud, "She's gonna be fucking devastated. Angry… _determined—_ Oh. …oh. Goddammit."

Playback on the video-wall paused seconds before the man appeared.

Samuel sipped his coffee, winced, sat on a desk. "Run it back at 1x - need to see this. Keep processing. Face rec, deconstruction of the scene, get an angle and location on the sniper who shot Chloe. Everything. Ping Max's phone - see if she had it on her, and if so, where they went. Run traffic cams, thermals on all buildings line of site, whole net. You know the drill, folks."

Michaels stood, shaking it off. "I'm going for a beer. Maybe shots. Anyone wanna come?" He casually threw his jacket over his shoulder, turned to leave.

A few ops people exchanged confused looks.

Samuel held out his arms like a question. "Michaels? Where's your head?"

John, halfway to the door, stopped. His cadence slow, "Nothing matters. None of this matters. She's fucking dead."

"Don't fold on me. We need to play this through. She was a good kid. Bad break. Didn't deserve this. But we need to find out what happened. Who happened. Where they took the Caulfield girl. We need to know these things, so we know who we're dealing with. We need to ensure that she doesn't fall into the wrong hands. We still have a chance to recover from this. The mission hasn't changed - only the circumstances and plan. We adapt. We're all professionals here—"

John rolled his eyes, faced Samuel. "No, no - that's not what I mean, Sam. I'm not folding up. Jesus. I mean this very literally - nothing we do here will help us or make the least bit of difference. We might as well grab a beer and take the rest of the day off."

"Explain," Samuel demanded.

John chuckled. "Listen. Chloe's dead."

"Obviously. Which is why—"

"No - that's _why_ it doesn't matter. It's not real anymore. We're on a dead branch. Doomed timeline. Whatever you want to call it. Nothing we do here stays - it'll all be wiped the _second_ she goes back. There's no way for us to communicate anything we might learn here to whatever version of ourselves might exist in the past or on another branch, right? So we might as well fuck off and have a drink? We won't remember any of this. It'll be as if we never existed beyond that moment on the roof."

Samuel crossed his arms, angry, impatient. "She's _God knows where_ right now, Michaels - I don't think—"

"Sam - listen to me. I mean this respectfully, but seriously. There's exactly _zero_ chance Max is going to let Chloe stay dead."

"But what if—"

"I know her. Them. Look, we all do. Think! They've been best friends since before they could talk. And now they're in love. And I mean honest to god for real hearts and flowers soulmate young love. Right? Honeymoon phase. You've heard them. Seen how they are together. And these sorry asshats, they ended Chloe, _her_ Chloe, about three minutes ago."

The room quieted, all eyes on Michaels.

"It doesn't matter how long it takes her. It doesn't matter what she has to go through. She's a _time traveler,_ Sam. Among other things. And the love of her life is dead on that rooftop. Anything that happens anywhere in the universe after that moment is essentially forfeit."

Others in the room exchanged glances. Some stopped what they were doing altogether, as the gravity of what Michaels said sank in.

"Son of a bitch." Samuel's hand went to his chin, as he stared off into the distance.

"Yeah. We've been watching, so we know what she can do. It's why we're eyes only for now, right? Do these guys have _any_ idea what they've just done? They can't hold her. No way this timeline stands. None. We're the only people on earth right now who know that we're all going to stop existing the second she gets control of her situation. So drinks don't sound like the worst idea?"

One of the analysts interrupted "Sir - we have an ID. The man I mean. Alexander Vankin."

"Russia's teleporter. Shit. Yeah, of course. Run him on the ground. They must have a team here. How did they find out about Caulfield? And shit - there isn't _any_ way to communicate with ourselves after she resets, is there?"

"No. She'll be the only person with any memory of what happened in this timeline."

Samuel kept the distant stare for a moment, snapped back. "But she will, correct?"

"We're pretty sure, yeah."

Samuel, projected his voice, taking charge. "Alright, everyone. Listen up. All hands on deck. This op just went from a covert investigation to an all-access priority-one rescue mission. We're going public. The narrative is we have a US citizen and friendly intelligence asset illegally detained by foreign nationals on US soil, under immediate threat of execution or forcible rendition out of the country in the next 24 hours. Get her photo out to every federal, state and local law enforcement agency within five hundred miles of Las Vegas. TSA, FBI, CBP, Coast Guard. Military. Update our teams and remote participants on the situation. I want to see her photo in airports, bus stations, taxi cabs. Every hotel concierge. Move her age down a few months - call it abduction of a female minor and get it on the news, Amber alerts, road signs, perverts grabbed her, whatever. Get the public on the lookout. Checkpoints in and out of the metro. Get us some air assets out of Nellis to eyeball the dark spaces. Put her on social media. Go wide. Lock these fuckers down. She doesn't move without someone seeing her and calling us. Any edge we can give her. Her safety and successful recovery are the only things that matter now. Come on. Let's go people!"

The room burst back to life with renewed purpose. Michaels suspected others here had privately grown fond of them as well.

He set his coat over the back of his chair. "What's the play?"

"You know her as well as any of us. I want you and a tac team wheels up for Vegas five minutes ago. Take the jet. Take Miss Margaret, but keep her background until Caulfield's secure. Be clear with the team - this is a full-on stars and stripes style military rescue mission - not a detention. Help her out, give her whatever she needs to get back to Chloe. She's free to make her own calls."

"So…what's the play? She's going to get out on her own somehow. Why the full public press here?"

"She'll _remember,_ John. Even if no one else does. Even though we won't. I want her to know she has friends out here."

"Sir?" as they walked together toward the exit.

"She'll remember you. That we tried to help her. Our job here is to recruit her. The alternatives are all unacceptable, and I think you agree. Mission hasn't changed, even if this all evaporates. I'd rather she sees us as friends when we meet again, not enemies. Makes it easier for all of us. Both of them too. If she's to imprint on a friendly face, I want it to be you. I know you care about her and Chloe. It's okay - we're not robots. She'll sense that too. Be honest with her. Don't tell her everything, just a friendly version of everything. Enough so she understands. If you or Miss M. learn anything from the Russians, give it to her. Give her your mobile number before she goes back. But don't push. It's got to be her call. She might get in touch herself, once everything's reset. Might give us some intel, might agree to come in. That would be the best thing for everyone, agreed? Unless you'd rather go get that beer?"

"No. Agreed. This is the right call. Thank you."

One of the aides jumped in, "Michaels, confirming the strike teams are on alert, standing by at LAX with runway priority. There's a helo on the roof to take you and Miss Margaret. Your gear's already on the plane. Good luck. And…sir - keep her safe?" Teammates around the room looked his way as if to agree.

He nodded, double-timed it out of the room and up the stairs.

* * *

 **Max** heard a woman speaking. The world was all dark and scratchy. She felt too sideways. Couldn't move. "Chloe?" Her voice barely carried to her ears.

The woman's voice grew. Closer. Receded. Scratchy. A man's voice. A third.

Max couldn't see. Couldn't feel. Anything.

 _Which Max?_

Scribbling.

Her throat was al dente.

She couldn't feel the rest of her. Just her tongue. Too big.

Her heart talked in bumps. Too slow.

Through a heavy blanket maybe. A voice. "…'s waking…"

A pinch. Behind her head, holding tube. A liquid.

A burning line of orange, slowing.

a dream.

A white expanse.

"Hello, Max." A surprise voice? Not made of mouth sounds.

"Hi?"

"Hi."

"um."

"It's going to be okay Max. I'll stay here with you for a time."

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome."

"Where?"

"Nowhere."

"Why don't I—"

"Remember me? We haven't met."

"What is—"

"You're in an old branch. You'll find your way again."

"What's—"

"You've been given a neuroinhibitor. It separates you from you."

"What—"

"No. It doesn't exist yet."

"That sound—"

"It's you. You're accelerating. On the Inside."

"Why?"

"To burn it all away."

"What about—"

"Chloe?"

"Yes."

"Spoilers."

"But—"

"It's almost time, Max."

"It's always almost time."

"You're beginning to understand."

"Will I meet you—"

"You just did."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Max. It's now again."

…A white space

…An expanse

…A cocoon

* * *

 **Michaels** and his team hovered fifty feet above the target site in two stealth-modified UH-60 Black Hawks, rotors thumping at the air. The mid-morning clouds would break in another hour. The stealth helos were quieter than unmodified versions but still sounded like helicopters. And they were clearly visible to anyone who looked at them.

Image analysts back at the Joint Operations Center LA picked out signs of Alexander's landing in the wide-field thermal recordings from one of the drones. Through that hit, they identified the address, floor, and probable rooms where they were holding Max.

Local PD quietly secured the ground level and cleared the suspected floor, while LV Swat positioned sharpshooters on a few buildings overlooking the target. All held position.

"Time to go." Michaels tapped the condenser mic on his throat.

Getting Max out safely was their only priority. They weren't concerned about Alexander jumping away. The timeline would reset when Max went back, and Alexander wasn't his fight anyway.

They descended thick black ropes to the hotel roof. Half the men secured lines and rappelled farther down the sides of the building, stopping above floor 7. Others raced down one of two stairwells at each end of the structure. The inside teams were weighed down with heavy steel plate body armor, and a standard mix of MP5s, M4 assault rifles, and sidearms. Two men in each group also carried short breaching shotguns for the doors.

Michaels was point on the north stairwell team. His group of five went down in a tight line, covering corners and hides in a practiced flow as they dropped levels. They reached the seventh-floor stairwell exit, holding for the other teams to signal ready.

On count, they opened the doors to the hallways from each side, moving to center.

Outside teams were to stay put until the target locations were confirmed and the breach began.

Inside teams crept down the hall, one member examining walls on each side with handheld Terahertz scanners to ensure no one got missed or behind them. They closed on the doors of two adjoining rooms housing the suspects. The rest of the floor was confirmed clear.

Michaels scanned outside one of the suspect rooms, picking up three adults at a table. Farther down, his scanner showed a fourth person lying on a bed.

Only four, including Max, and she was away from the other three. Michaels signaled the others, then tapped a countdown to zero with his finger on the mic. The rest was noise and controlled confusion. They breached the doors with shotguns, tossed in flash bangs, and each team rushed into their assigned room as a unit. External windows blew at the same time, outside operators covering targets while suspended upside down from their lines.

"Shit." Inside the room was all kinds of wrong. The family at the table screamed as the doors and windows blew, and the men stormed the interior. A child, asleep in the bedroom, cried for his parents, terrified.

"Eyes open. Targets not present. Repeat targets not—"

Half the windows of the hotel across the street blew out, shaking both buildings and showering tons of glass onto the sidewalk below.

A crackle over the radio, "…opposite side…anyone got eyes on?"…"Shit - wrong building. Does anyone see her? Anyone?"

Michaels, already on the move, took control. "Teams one and two, on me. Team three, drop and secure. Team four, scan, cover in place. LVPD - secure the perimeter of the building across the street. Swat - please cover and scan for the hostage. Anyone gets eyes on her, call it out."

Michaels and his team ran for the stairwells, while the outside squad split - half stayed suspended where they were, scanned the open front half of the building for signs of Max or her captors, while the other half dropped to the ground to cover exits and compare exiting civilians against the face cards.

"Fuck. Sam - Alexander must have used this building as a relay. Heading across. What can you guys see with the drones? Be good to know where we're heading before we get there."

"On it. Stand by."

* * *

 **Max** was coming out again. Pounding inside. That dream. …something familiar.

Her mouth tasted nickels. Bad.

Opened her eyes.

Brightness. Unfocused.

Drugged?

Whatever they gave her was strong. Her mind was catching up, even if her body wasn't ready.

She squinted against the light. Tried to roll. Couldn't. She was in a hotel room, on a bed. There was a window. Blinds open. Outside, above. Helicopters. Why? Blurred sounds. Helicopters went away. Just spidermen. _Still can't move._

She struggled to maintain attention.

 _Focus. This is important._

She looked again. Men. Guns.

Doing something across the street.

 _Chloe. Fuck. Chloe._

She remembered. Before she went black.

They…they killed her. Chloe was dead.

 _For the moment._

 _Oh my god. Her head. You motherfuckers. You meant it. You meant that for her. Then you drugged me. How? Why? This is too close to Jefferson to be coincidence, isn't it? He was the only one who stopped my powers like this. And even he didn't know. How the fuck did they know?_

 _Ok, Max. Enough fucking around._

 _Wake yourself up. Please?_

A noise. Commotion outside the room. The people who did this. They saw outside too. The woman…she knew Max was waking up. Their voices rose.

Explosions in the other building?!

Line of glass vanished.

She was coming! A needle.

 _Shit! Do something, Max!_

She remembered what the voiceless said.

 _You're accelerating. On the inside. To burn it away._

Could she do that? Could she speed up her internal body clock to metabolize the drug? Free herself? It might look the same from the outside, but it was different from slowing down the world and then her body, wasn't it? The difference between mind time and body time - if she could reverse their tuning ratios - shift the other way?! While the world continued to slow.

 _Focus Max._

The needle drew closer. But more slowly now.

The woman's face… Fear.

 _She can feel my mind racing away from her._

 _My body going almost as far._

 _I can feel her in there._

 _She knows what's coming._

 _It doesn't matter. Keep going. Push, goddammit!_

 _Burn it all._

 _Burn it away._

The world slowed…to a stop.

Max kept going.

Pushed hard.

Her mind ran in the same frame as her body, both faster than the world.

 _How do I do it? How do I push my body faster?_

Her mind! It would _always_ think it was the one moving at regular speed.

 _It perceives itself!_

There was no other way.

 _Of course._ _Now it totally makes sense._

That was the block.

 _Go. Go beyond._

Mental frame-locks removed, the world stilled behind. Her body time raced far, far ahead. Her thoughts riding somewhere between.

 _Burn out the poison._

Now she understood. She knew how this worked. Femtoseconds of real time.

 _Never again._

A few perceptual minutes of thought.

 _But my body will age 12 hours or more in that span…_ _Never. Fucking. Again._

 _Keep burning._

 _Chloe. I'm sorry. Every fucking time you die, it's been my fault. At least the last two were fast. Painless. But I always come back for you. And I always will. Sorry for the hurt I cause you, even if it's erased. I never wanted any of that for you. But I'm selfish. I'll never send you away._

Burning away.

 _Just a little longer love. I don't know where you are right now. If you're dead in this timeline, where do you go? If anywhere? If there is an afterlife, they must be installing a revolving door for you. I don't know if what I said about Rachel is true. If her spirit lives on in some form. If some of her awareness lingers. But if it's true for her, then it must also be true for you. When you're between, can you visit with her? Does time work the same way? Or are you outside it all? Can you hear me? Can you see across the timelines?_

 _Can you feel how much I love you?_

Burning out.

 _Well, fair warning. If you're aware at all, you might wanna look away. Least until I bring you back. These motherfuckers are gonna pay. And shit's not gonna be pretty._

Burned away.

 _See you soon Chloe._

"Time to wake up Max."

Max snapped open her eyes to a frozen world.

The tip of the needle was less than an inch from her skin. Unmoving.

She reached out, slowed her body, aligning the rate of flow to match her mind. She pushed herself off the bed. Stretched. The drug was gone. Visuals shifted as she caught interference waves. Light still moved at the speed of light, even in a frozen universe. But even so, reality didn't always appear the same.

She looked at the woman. Blond hair, curly. Average height, weight. Maybe 35. Blue eyes. Face reflecting a full-blown panic. Frozen. Telepath? Max felt some presence where it shouldn't be. But why here? Why was she interested in Max? Why the fuck did they kill Chloe? It would explain how they knew to drug her though.

 _Good luck with that next time, fuckers._

Max saw them. A young man and woman, dead, dumped haphazardly in the space between the bed and the wall. _Poor couple. Must have been their room. I'll have to remember to check on them later. Earlier._

She walked past the blonde woman to other room. Two men. One, the smaller of the two, was caught mid-stride, running into the hallway. The other was tall, head shaved. There was something weird about his appearance. Max walked around him.

 _The hell?_

Like there was a mirage extending a quarter-inch outward from his body on all sides. But as Max walked around, the contents, visual distortions, changed. She looked closer. Like he was in a bubble? Right against his skin. Somewhere else was showing through the edges.

 _Sunlight. Ground. Trees. Wait. Like over there, outside?_ _Shit! This guy is fucking tunneling!_

In the margins of his body, she was looking down the barrel of a forming wormhole. _In Seattle, they thought I was a teleporter. That's what they meant. Son of a bitch. They're fucking real. Teleporter. Telepath. These are…powered people. What were they doing with me?_

She thought she understood how he worked, frozen in an instant. He wasn't moving between two places. He was breaking space, joining two volumes together, sticking to the second one as the wormhole destabilized. _Was that the popping I felt as I blacked out? Oh man. Chloe is gonna love this way too much._

 _Okay, Max. Detective hat time. We've got a room full of powered people. They killed Chloe. Drugged you. Murdered two other people. So, not friendlies. Check._

 _Across the street, we've got an armed incursion going on. The way these three are reacting, flight, panic, I'm guessing they're either the targets, or…yeah. That's pretty much it. They'd sit tight otherwise. Doesn't make those other guys friends, but—_

She walked to the window, looked carefully at what was unfolding outside. Uniformed cops down on the street. A few snipers on the building across the plaza. And right across the street, what looked like special ops guys upside down on lines with their guns. The windows of one of the rooms were blown out. Couldn't see anything more inside.

 _So, real cops? Military? Do they all know about the powers these people have?_

 _Huh. Okay. Well, I'm back in control. This shit's out of my system. This timeline is a bust anyway, so yeah. Let's find out what's going on. Could be important for us. Just a little longer, Chloe. Recon intensifies._

She checked the room for any documents, papers, IDs. All three of her captors had passports, probably fake, but she'd take them anyway. Boarding passes. Entry stamps. Looked like they came in through South America. Moscow to Sao Paulo, then to LA and Vegas. A key. _To what?_ Nothing in here. _Check the hotel lobby for deposit boxes later._ Nothing in the safe. No computers. No mobile phones. Interesting by itself. She found hers, switched off.

Picked it up and powered on. _Looks like it syncs to my time once I pick it up. Interesting._ Right, small objects. No signal, of course. She took pictures of each of the three, as well as the young couple just in case. Pocketed her phone.

 _Now to see what's up with the COD guys across the street. Could walk out. But then these douchenozzles would get away, and I want to see how they interact together. Could blow out the windows. Wave? Maybe I could fuck with this dude while he's in two places at once. Or while two locations are in him?_

 _Powerslide? Yeah. Powerslide._

Max went through the door again, to the far side of the room. Remembered Chloe's advice. _Don't think about how. Think about what. Okay, Chloe. See? I'm listening. But the how helped me earlier with the drugs, so…_ She wanted to blow the windows out of the room without damaging the structure. _Maybe a shockwave, aimed only out at the glass? Okay, Max. Let's do this._ She shifted frames and walked in slow-mo to the other side of the room, returning to regular time once she stopped. Slight delay coming out to shield her from the blast.

 _No…_

She caught the air-wobble as soon as time allowed visible movement. The wormhole. It reacted, created a shockwave resonance, the cavity amplifying the blast and redirecting it in new directions like a spherical lens.

 _Dammit. Too late. Hold on._

The whole building shook as the glass shattered outward - furniture flew, wall decorations flattened. The ceiling and floor expanded out, buckled. The telepath flew face-first into a wall. Crunch.

 _Yeah, she's gone._

The teleporter was caught in the center of the shock amp. He turned into a swirling red mist. Fortunately, most of him landed outside in the parking lot as the wormhole collapsed.

 _Yikes. Sorry dude. Guess I could rewind, but meh. I'll find you earlier. We have some chatting to do. Looks like I have their attention across the street now though._

 _Hallway dude kept going. Maybe they'll catch up with him on their way over._

Shaking stopped. Building seemed stable, at least for now.

 _I'll hang out here for a few._

 _See how this goes._

* * *

 **Michaels'** earpiece crackled to life as they were halfway across the street.

"Fourth floor, street side, midpoint. Max. Looks like she's okay. She's sitting against the interior wall to the right of the door as you go in. She…yeah, she just waved at the drone."

"Copy. Thanks." He looked up at the hovering drone, but couldn't see that far back into the room from his low angle. It was like the entire front face of the hotel sheared off. Concrete and wet carpet and broken furniture in the street, sprinklers spraying overhead. Sirens rose in the distance, fire probably. He ran into the lobby.

A uniformed cop pointed them to the stairwell nearest the entrance.

He ditched his plate carrier while rounding the second-floor stairs, continued up at a run. His team was fast behind. Skidded to a stop inside the room. "Max?"

"Down here."

He dropped down, gave her a quick once-over to make sure she didn't have any obvious wounds. "You okay?"

"I think so…wait. You just called me Max. How do you know my name?"

"Sorry - we should get out of here, this building may not be safe. Can you walk?" He offered his hand. "I'll explain everything, but we probably need to go now."

She picked herself up, gesturing for him to lead the way.

They descended to the street, where he led her to a paramedic unit to get checked out.

She waved him off impatiently but accepted the offer of the tailgate. "Okay - so how do you know me? Who were those people in there to you? I assume that's what all this fuss was about out here?"

 _Right to the point._ "We aren't here for them Max. We saw what they did to Chloe this morning, your abduction, we came looking for you."

Max looked around, taking in the scale of the effort.

 _She's putting it together on her own. Time to get ahead of her._ "We know what you are Max. We've kept tabs on you, but we've also kept our distance. You can understand that. I…we…know you're not a threat. But there are others - nations, governments, organizations - who wouldn't share that view. Or who would seek to use you for their own ends." He gestured toward the room where she'd been held.

"So you know?" She looked annoyed, but not completely surprised. She didn't bother to hide anything either.

 _Of course. She knows she's not staying._ Michaels chuckled, "Yeah Max. Look, it's okay. We came to help. You're free to go at any time; we know we couldn't hold you if we wanted to."

"Fair enough John. But who are _you_ working for?"

He smiled. "That was good. I didn't see you move. Assume you went through my wallet and phone?"

"Guilty." She shrugged, turned aside as though bored. "No wife? Kids?"

"More of a 'series of plentiful but shallow relationships' sort of guy."

Michaels caught Miss Margaret heading toward them, escorted by a police officer.

"To answer your real question, I won't bore you with the deep structural details, but it's a mix of public and private sector, representing the interests of the United States here and around the world. Personnel, policy, financing, and authority are all derived from a mix of government, military, law enforcement, academia, and public and private corporations. Operate in small teams. Come together around specific missions, then dissolve. Loose hierarchy. Expertise based. Problem-solving. Away from public view. This…" he gestured around, "is probably the loudest, most public thing we've done."

Miss Margaret rested to one side, not directly acknowledging Max or Michaels. As though waiting to ask a paramedic a question.

Max held his gaze, evaluating everything. But Michaels had the advantage of knowing Max, if not directly, then observationally, and in relatively fine detail.

He made a show of visibly relaxing. "We don't have to do this dance, Max. Look, we both know this timeline's dead end. You don't have to be so guarded. I'll share what I know with you. And nothing you say to me will survive once you go back anyway, right? So I'm not asking you to trust me. But I am telling you that I know it doesn't matter. There's nothing for me to gain here. So you might as well use this time to learn as much as you can before you go back and save her."

Her face changed completely. Softened. _Surprised?_

"You weren't kidding."

He laughed, "Nope. We've had some pretty smart people thinking about all of this. Not your enemy Max. We're not friends yet either. That's yours to call when you feel you have enough info."

Max crossed her arms. "Okay - so the first thing to confirm, telepaths, teleporters? Real, yeah?"

"Exceptionally rare. But yes. Real."

"What else? Other powered people? Are there others who can do what I can do?"

"Don't let this go to your head, but you're unique, Max. We have no record of anyone like you before. But who knows? If there were others, they could probably ensure that that was the case. But there are more than a few lab nerds who suspect that your powers come from a different source than the ones we're used to. They're that different. No idea what that means, but, they seem proud."

He gave her a quick overview of the known types and limitations of gifted. How they fit into history, international policy, and conflicts. Leaving out the part about how most are given little choice about their participation.

"Shit."

"Ha. Yeah. Blew my mind when I learned all of that for the first time. I still didn't believe it until I'd met a few though. You have an advantage there."

Max wasn't quite as relaxed or comfortable as Michaels knew she could be in her most comfortable downtime, but this was okay too. It was significant progress. Felt like they were on equal footing at least.

"So what, you guys are basically like…Shield, then?"

Michaels thought about it for a moment before replying. "Yeah actually. Pretty much exactly like Shield. Fewer helicarriers, unfortunately." He smiled.

Max smiled back. "Bright side, you guys bring some pretty cool toys to the party all the same. Chloe would love this," she motioned around to all the gear and chaos.

Michaels anticipated her likely line of questions, so he jumped in front of them. "The people who took you - Russian team. We identified the bald one as a teleporter, name of Alexander Vankin. They usually reserve him for assassinations, so you should feel special that he was here as part of an extraction team."

Max shrugged. "He's dead. Somewhere over by that park, I think. You won't find many…solids. There were two others. A blond woman, telepath I think. She didn't make it. And another man I didn't get a good look at. He ran out as you guys were doing your thing over there."

Caught Michaels off guard. "Seriously? Vankin's been on everyone's list for about a quarter century. No one could ever touch him. It's too bad that part of the timeline can't stay - they'd probably be lining up to pin medals on you right about now."

"Good to know."

"The woman I don't know. We could probably run her through the system, but she might not show up. It's also possible you'd be gone before we had any answers, so might just be wasted motion. Don't know about the third man. He may have blended out with the escaping crowd after the explosion."

Max tucked her knee under her chin. "Why Russians?"

"Just happened to be them that got wind of you first? It's not like they're particularly bad or anything. Or that they represent Russia in the general sense. Their people aren't any more aware of them, or their actions than the US public is aware of ours. I know what they did to Chloe is unforgivable, but this is a dirty, secret game we've all been playing for a very long time. Unfortunately, we can be a bit desensitized to it. And as much as we like to tell ourselves that we're the good guys, everyone else is telling themselves the same thing. It's a real war. We all want to see ourselves as the heroes."

Max looked away. "I'm familiar with the idea. I prefer mine to be the everyday sort though. Anyway, every one of us out here makes choices too, and they all leave marks. Guess we all have to live with our consequences. Believe me. I know something about that."

"You more than most, huh? Sorry, Max. I know you've had some hard calls," Michaels trailed off.

Max straightened up. "Okay. Next. Back in Seattle, some guys in vans came after Chloe and I. Your guys?"

"No," he lied. "We've been passive observers since Arcadia Bay. Was it the day you two went looking at lofts before you disappeared?"

Max hugged her leg. "Yeah. Jeeze. You guys do have us under tight watch don't you?"

"It's as much for your safety as our peace of mind Max. Case in point." He waved around. "Anyway, we saw you jumping around that day, but couldn't figure out why. We could have pulled traffic cams or something for you if we'd known, but… Well, probably doesn't matter now."

Max locked eyes with him. "You guys had us under surveillance on the roof this morning?"

He held her gaze. "Yeah. It's how we knew things went wrong." He figured she'd get here eventually. "And yes. We had cameras pointed there last night too. But we're not in that business Max. Most of this is DVR level stuff - it's automated, and only flagged or looked at if something bad happens. And if someone does see a private moment, people understand it's meant to be private, and those sections are deleted. I know it's uncomfortable, but we're trying to strike a balance between your safety and privacy. Sometimes we miss. We still behave like professionals and grownups."

Without looking away, she said, "You're almost as good at this as me."

Miss Margaret stifled a laugh off to the side.

 _You have something to contribute to this Margaret? Speak up,_ he thought to her with a mental smile.

He stood, handed Max a card with his number on it. "If you ever need a direct line. Intel, questions, whatever. I obviously won't remember any of this conversation, but if you tell me, I'll believe you."

She took it. Name. Email. Mobile number. Put it in her pocket with all of the other papers she'd taken from the hotel room. "Thanks. And thanks for all of…this." She made a circular motion in the air. "No promises. I don't know your agendas or anything yet, and I have a few of my own I'm working on."

"It's okay Max. Save Chloe. Bring her up to speed. You guys will figure out what you want to do. We're here if you need us. We're holed up in the Federal Building in LA. Feel free to pop by. You may find that our agendas align. And even if they don't completely, they may not conflict." Michaels spoke sincerely.

Max stood as well. "Thanks for not being a douche, John."

He laughed. "Thanks for not going back in time and killing my parents."

"You guys worry about that?" she laughed.

"It's an endless source of amusement for me that some of us do, yes. So how does this work? Do you need space to go back? Spin in a circle? Fly around the world backward?"

She smiled, hand on her hip. "I just need to get home. I took a photo this morning. I use those to target my jumps."

"Really? Wow. We had no idea how any of that worked."

"Good to know."

John remembered. "Shit. No…"

"What?" She turned.

"After they grabbed you, they torched your suite."

Max looked up. "Fuck."

"Yeah."

"They knew to drug me to prevent me from using my powers too."

"What? Shit. We didn't know that either." He leaned against the back of the ambulance, crossed his arms.

Max smiled. "Also good to know."

"So you think they knew you used photos and wanted to prevent you from going back?"

She paced. "Shit. Yeah. I mean… Telepath must have been keeping an eye on us too."

 _Gotta tell her._ "I didn't mention this earlier - I figured it wouldn't matter with the whole 'universe is doomed' thing, but we heard a report from Seattle that your parents' house was also burned. Gas leak by the look of it. They're fine, out of the house, but it has to have been coordinated for the same reason. Damn."

For the first time, Max looked worried.

"Did you have any photos stored safely offsite? Besides your parents' house?"

She bit her lip. "Chloe's, but her house was destroyed in the tornado, and those photos would put me right back in hell week. Although, with my newer abilities, I might be able to navigate that fucking maze differently now." Her eyes darted, working things out as she spoke.

Reaching, he asked, "Does there have to be anything special about the photos themselves?"

"We've only ever used instant analog film. But that's only cause that's what I like to use. Haven't tried it with anything else, but there's no reason for me to think that it wouldn't work. Wait… I used a still from a phone once! You think some of the surveillance video might work?"

He leaned forward. "We have some. Last resort?"

Max stretched. "Maybe. It's always been stills though. And something I've taken, or something I was in, but close. Hey, can you get one of your guys to give me a lift over to our hotel? It's possible something might have survived. Or I might be able to rewind myself far enough to find something in the fire before it's destroyed."

"Of course." He tapped his mic. "This is Michaels. We're loaning Max one of the Black Hawks. Can I get an escort to take her over to the LZ, have the crew on standby? Wherever she wants to go, as long as she needs it…thanks."

One of the tac ops guys, an old friend of John's, walked over. Head-nod to John, introduced himself to Max. "Call me Ty. I'll be your flight attendant." He smiled, held out his hand.

She shook it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Max."

"Where would you like to go first, Max?" He gestured toward the huge grey helicopter hunkered in one of the parking lots.

Michaels added, "Call me if we need to look at Plan B. I can have them send a frame grab of any timecode you need to your mobile."

Max thanked him and waved.

Miss Margaret moved to sit next to Michaels, watched her walk away. "Such a sweet girl."

Michaels turned to her. "You sat there making faces for twenty minutes with your ear in her head, and that's all you've got?"

She seemed to consider his words for a moment. "Sorry. We're going to be erased, or this will all be erased for us, soon. Does it matter?"

"No, I suppose not." He leaned back. _Miller time?_

"It's a shame. That we can't get a message across to ourselves."

He nodded at her. "What do you know?"

"Well, you know I…usually operate in different circles than this…" She clasped her hands.

That was her polite way of saying 'way above your pay grade,' but he wasn't offended. It was true. She'd always worked more closely with _them_ than ops. "Sure."

"Oh, hell, this will all be erased anyway, so it doesn't matter. Not like they can do anything to them now. I hear things…silent things…from time to time. I can't help it. I'm old. And _they_ 've used my children and grandchildren as leverage over me for more than ten years. Men of ego, power, can sometimes be careless with their thoughts. I never wished any of this for myself. It's only ever been to protect my family."

"What do you mean, Margaret?"

"You told Max the truth as you know it. Omissions, but you didn't intentionally lie. The trouble is, it's not all true. It's okay. You didn't know that. You're in a smaller box than I am. I've seen and heard things…after spending even this little bit of time with Max…comparing what fragments they've let slip with the fragments of futures I saw in Max's head…well certain things that didn't make sense before might just a bit make more sense now."

"What? Margaret - what is it?"

"John, I think…I think it's possible we're playing for the wrong team."


	11. Lost

**Max** ran up the back steps to her hotel, through two sets of doors and into the stairwell. Her heart raced.

The pilot had dropped her off at the outer edge of the parking lot before lifting away. Seen from the air, the devastation to the upper floors was total. The top of the building was ringed with thick black smoke stains; the windows a mix of open-air and broken glass. Interiors, thoroughly blackened or opened to the sky where the roof above collapsed.

 _Gutted._

The water damage to the lower floors was as extensive. Small black rivers broke into black waterfalls, splashed underfoot as she climbed. Old smoke tugged at the back of her throat.

She didn't have a lot of hope that photos survived, but she had to look. Wished she'd taken better precautions. Another emergency stash downstairs in a locker. Something. She was an idiot for clinging to her old analog instant film. If she used her phone to take safety pictures, she'd already be with Chloe. They could have trashed her phone, sure, but if she used a cloud backup, social media, anything, she'd still be back by now.

 _Some things might have greater utility in digital._

The exit to the top floor was safety-taped, locked tight.

 _Cute._

She shifted briefly into MTC, Chloe's new shorthand for the Max-Time Continuum. Kicked the door, striking it next to the lock. It sheared off its hinges, spun end over end down the hallway. Corners took chunks out of the blackened walls and floor, exposing lighter unburned insides. It stuck in the ceiling near the far side of the building.

 _Shut up, Chloe. I'm working on it._

She shuffled through the gap where the door to their suite used to be; where the fire concentrated and burned hottest. Even the furniture was down to bare stumps in sodden piles of ash. She didn't bother to poke around. Every room was visible through what remained the walls. Nothing survived. She dropped to her knees, slumped into the ashes. Tired. Dejected. Contemplating.

Long enough that fear crept in.

She left, headed back to the stairwell.

 _Up._

 _Maybe Chloe had something on her?_

She didn't remember Chloe bringing anything besides a textbook and her cocoa. Didn't imagine Chloe's body would still be there. Hoped it wouldn't. But maybe they'd missed something of hers? Her phone, a wallet with a picture, something? Had to look.

Back to the rooftop. Late-afternoon sun. She made her way around the collapsed areas. Tables, chairs, umbrellas and outdoor heaters all tipped and scattered.

 _Probably from the firefighters._

Max made her way to where she'd been practicing that morning.

 _Which put Chloe right about there._

No body. No…stains, even.

 _Water must have carried everything away while it was still new._

A broken white mug rested near the hot tub.

She picked it up. Turned it in her hands.

 _Broken again._

 _Sorry, Chlo._

 _Trying to find my way back._

She was afraid to rewind. Only get one shot, and there was no guarantee she'd push through the moment she came out from under their drugs. To rewind far enough to pick something out of the path of the fire, she needed to get close to the moment they killed Chloe.

Danger was, even a failed rewind attempt would put the Russians back on the playing field of the living, and she didn't want the distraction. Conflicted about killing them again.

 _Other options?_

Her parents' house wasn't going to work. If photos there survived the explosion, the most recent would be from the summer before. She hadn't even left for Arcadia.

 _Giant tangle of timeline-worms there._

She'd do it all again if that's what it took to get Chloe back, but she hoped for another way. But…they even took that option off the table. _Why?_

Other options exhausted, she sniffed, fished around her pocket, pulled out the card with Michael's number.

* * *

 **Michaels** ' phone rang. Seattle number. "Max?" He ducked into an SUV, shut the door.

"Hey John - hotel was a bust. I might take you up on your offer of a few surveillance stills if that's still on the table?"

He'd only just found out. Wasn't prepared. "Shit, Max, I'm so sorry."

The air went out of her voice. "What happened?"

 _Dammit._ "Someone on our side - working for the Russians, or freaked out by the idea they were going to stop existing, we don't know - they…set off some code, triggered a purge around the time of the raid. Killed encryption keys, DOD wiped the live arrays, nuked the backups and cloud stuff too. Even triggered a remote-wipe of the drone storage. Mail servers, internal docs and reports up the chain. They got everything, Max."

A sigh. "…of course they did." She sounded small, far away.

"I don't know what to say."

"It's been that kind of day. All over again."

Across the road, a pedestrian with a bloody head-bandage sat with a paramedic while uniformed officers asked him questions. Emergency service vehicles continued to arrive.

He checked the time on the dash. "If you can think of any photos you could use to get to Chloe, I mean anywhere in the world, Max, I'll fly you there myself."

Silence.

He hadn't heard her this down. Understood why, but her tone concerned him.

After a moment, she babbled out, "There might be one kid in a desert in China with a still of me on his mobile? Maybe. No name. No number. Vague idea of location. Assuming it's still there at all. Seems impossible. But that jump would only lose me three weeks. Shit. We made a lot of progress in that time. If we'd been more social and gone out, we could probably raid the video surveillance from surrounding restaurants and casinos, but we've been hermits since we got here. Everything delivered. Just a couple of trips to the desert. Fuck."

He didn't have an answer. "Don't lose hope yet, Max. We have our techs trying to bring these files back to life in ten different places. Unfortunately, they did a comprehensive job. But we might recover something. All we need is enough of a data-fragment for one image, right?" He didn't have much hope, but this wasn't the time.

"Yeah. Thanks, John. I'm gonna stay here for a while. Clear my head. Maybe I'll remember something I can use. Give me a call if anything happens? You have the number."

"I will Max. Again - I'm sorry. This one's on us, and we're all feeling it. A lot of us liked…like Chloe…we're trying everything."

"Thanks."

The line beeped. Wend dead.

* * *

 **Max** slouched in a damaged plastic chair. Looked out to the city.

A moment of disquiet.

She absently turned the mug in her hands. A bit of brown residue remained, dried in a small pool inside.

 _She held this too._ _Her lips went right there._

The cut ceramic was rough in her hands.

 _We were right here. Last night. This morning._

That gap in time would have been a trivial gulf to contemplate yesterday but felt like an impossible barrier in her present.

 _Boxed in._

Max couldn't push down her worry any longer.

 _Worst case, I head to Seattle, get into my old school, find a yearbook in the Library, or with a former classmate. Use that to jump. Assuming these dudes haven't been that comprehensive. It would put me back two fucking years, minimum. Dammit. 16 again?_

 _No Chloe._

 _Crap._

In order of preference, Michaels and his team finding at least one still-image would have been the best option. Put her landing somewhere recent. Next best case would have been China, rediscovering that village, and by sheer miracle locating one child who took one picture of a sleeping girl who awoke and left as soon as he snapped it. Hoping against hope he'd still have the phone and picture of her. Jumping through that a second time would land her three weeks back - leaving her to find Chloe in San Francisco again.

But that was a super long-shot. Any photos taken before that put the jump at least a couple years back. Which meant losing what had developed between her and Chloe. And an eventual redo of Arcadia's little disaster party along the way.

The last was a terrible option from a lot of directions.

 _But with what I know now, with whatever is happening with these powers - I might be able to intervene more directly. At least find a way to put authorities onto Jefferson and Prescott before they could murder Rachel Amber._

 _Could I shockwave the tornado apart? How would that work? Shit._

 _No…_

As tangled and compressed and looped as her path through that time-frame became, and as tightly linked as Chloe's first death was with Max's powered origins, would jumping back into that nexus make things more tangled and worse? Or maybe even prevent her from ever getting powers at all?

 _But if Rachel and Chloe are both alive, it would be worth giving up these powers. I'd be normal again. Anonymous and uninteresting to all these people and their bullshit secret-wars._

She and Rachel and Chloe could have a chance to be friends. Live small, ordinary, delightful lives? Sounded like heaven, given present circumstances. There was no guarantee that she and Chloe would reconnect like this again, but—

 _Almost sunset. What would you do, Chloe? If our positions were reversed? What would you have me to do if there were no limits at all?_

She knew in her heart Chloe would do almost anything to bring Rachel back. Even knowing she'd run off with Frank. It wouldn't matter to Chloe. Rachel would be alive in the world. And the world would be brighter for it.

Max was inclined to agree.

Just like Chloe would do anything to protect Max.

Just as Max would do anything for Chloe.

It was a line of thought. Something that made the lousy jump options sound like they might be worthwhile. But it was loaded with mega-risk too. So much could change so quickly, and nothing was guaranteed. The farther back she went, the bigger the ripples forward became.

 _But if saving Rachel too is a possible thing, shouldn't I at least try?_

Or would her attempt open the door to something like OtherChloe, suffering through a prolonged end of life - something she couldn't see, some universal cruelty, with the possibility that Max would be stranded _without_ her powers, unable to undo it or help?

 _Shit. That would be as bad as this. Maybe worse._

It also meant possibly condemning Chloe to an average lifespan, assuming all else went well. Herself too. Which…would guarantee that the horrible future fragments she remembered would still come to pass. _So many people, suffering._ No chance to prevent the horror shows from taking place. Only next time, there wouldn't be a Chloe to help bring things back into balance after - if they weren't able to help prevent some of it. Would others step in? Where did the greater good lie? What was even possible?

The past was, after all, only one direction.

The future was always the obvious other, and was in many ways the more important one. Max couldn't shake that gut feeling - that her only job, her _only_ job, might be to get Chloe to the future in one piece, where she seemed to have a meaningful destiny to fulfill.

 _Shit._

Sun was down.

Night on the strip cast nearly as much light, concentrated in a narrow band at the horizon.

Max's mind wandered loose across the mine-fields of what-ifs. Tracing and retracing old ground. Cycling feelings and fears as though they were new information. Which was never healthy for her. She was unmoored. Off balance.

 _This is why every Chloe needs a Max, and every Max needs a Chloe_. _Doesn't matter what I think for now. We don't have to decide right this instant._ _Why did I have to be dependent on fucking photographs in the first place? Stupid way for a goddamned universe-class superpower to work anyway. Who designed this shit?!_

 _Let's see where Michaels and his crew are._ _I really hope he's got good news. I'm about to lose my shit here._

Max. Any luck?

Michaels. No joy. Plan C, D or E?

Max. Shit. China is prolly 2 much of a long-shot. everything else puts me back years

Michaels. :(

Max. No emoji!

Max. Sorry. old Chloe joke.

Michaels. I got it. We read your texts. :D

Max. :(

She put her phone away.

Rudderless.

 _Shit. Chloe - I don't know what to do now._

 _If I go back that far, years, anything could happen. And once I jump, I can't ever come back here. I leave you here like this. You died on a roof in November of 2013. The end. And we die along with you. All of this, unfinished. All of us…over. Everything we had is gone forever like it never existed. I can't bear that. I might as well have left you dead in that bathroom. Fuck. I never wanted this._

 _I don't fucking want this!_

 _I don't want to lose you._

 _I can't…I can't fucking lose you._

 _Not after everything. Not ever._

 _Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!_

Max was near her break point, and she knew it. Alone. Boxed in. By people she didn't realize existed twelve hours before.

 _They fucked us. Bad._

Didn't see a way out. Didn't have a way to make it right.

Because she was careless.

 _I fucked us._

Because she took it all for granted.

 _It's my fault, Chloe._

Because she thought she was good enough, and they were protected, and that nothing like this could happen.

 _Arrogant._

 _And now Chloe's permanently dead in this section of time._

 _And if I jump back that far, I'm not only losing years. I'm losing her. us. gone._

 _Everything we were, are, everything we've become. I just…I can't. I'd rather lose myself._

 _I'm stuck - I can't move either way._

 _What do I do?_

 _Chloe? If you can hear me, please?_

 _What do I do?_

"FUCK!"

Her tears came as the mug sailed over the edge of the railing, shattering in the parking lot below.

She finally understood that Chloe - this Chloe, her Chloe - was lost forever. They weren't interchangeable. They only had a couple of months, but those months were her entire existence as far as she was concerned. Being with her, the two of them together, was her whole universe.

 _She was all that mattered._

 _We…were all that mattered._

 _And I let her down. I let us down._

 _Destroyed all of it._

 _I'm so sorry._

 _I'm so fucking sorry._

 _I'm sorry Chloe._

 _I don't want to say goodbye. I can't go._

 _I can't. Not like this._

 _I won't._

 _I just—_

She broke.

Stars spinning overhead, her world became a flood of tears and convulsive sobs. City lights breaking through blurred vision, she doubled over the safety railing. Lost for Chloe. Sorry for herself. Sorry for the world. Sorry for everything. Sorry for reasons she didn't even know yet. She failed. Utterly. Never see her again. _Not her._

 _I can't move_

 _I can't stay_

 _I can't even fucking breathe here._

 _Chloe…_

 _please…_

Her stomach cramped. Her face hurt. Her throat was ragged. Yelling into the night, coughing, choking in rage and sadness at the permanence of it. Her chair broke against the ground below.

Everything went out of her.

She collapsed to the roof.

The tear-blurred city shone sideways through the railing.

She was alone on the rooftop, near where Chloe died twelve hours before while trying to protect Max.

 _"Just one more take back. please?"_ she sobbed into the night.

 _"please?"_

 _someone_

 _anyone_

 _help me?_

 _…help us?_

* * *

 **Michaels** had two problems.

The first was trying to recover something, anything for Max to use. That was shaping up to be a failure. Everyone was scrambling, but nothing helpful yet.

The second was identifying the person responsible. Who on their team - their well vetted, highly paid, and highly motivated team, was responsible for this act of betrayal and operational sabotage. Who was working for the Russian extraction team?

They had better luck on that one.

Everything left a trail. Any digital act so comprehensive and widespread, as hastily executed, would leave a bright, shiny one. A trail that led back to their ops center in LA. Three desks over from where Michaels sat.

He was missing.

Samuel sent a team to his house. Mortensen. He had all the markings of a stand-up team player. Long contract history. No idea where his head went. Where his motivation came from. He was either an undisclosed idealist, bought and paid, or they had something on him.

Assuming it wasn't bullshit.

Reports from the LA field team made it sound like he was about to run, though, so it didn't look good. Samuel wasn't the kind to throw around words like 'arrest' or 'treason.' He'd request Miss Margaret have a go at Mortensen's brain to pull the details, then clear him off the books. Quiet sendoff to a black-site somewhere.

Didn't help Max, but she should know the cause. _If she finds a way back on her own, she might give us his name?_ _He fucked her and Chloe more directly than he did any of us, so she probably has an interest._

Michaels rode shotgun. The unmarked SUV drove down the strip en route to Nellis, where they'd catch a burner to LA Air Station. Nothing more he could do here.

Miss Margaret left hours before on a commercial flight.

As Michaels jotted a quick text to Max with the details on their turncoat, Ty smacked him in the arm, pointing over the steering wheel at the surrounding strip.

"No fucking way—"

Ty smiled. "Might be helpful. What do you think it is?"

John laughed, eyes back to his phone. "Christmas. Lotto. Happy fucking birthday, all at once."

He added two words and a hard return to the front of his text to Max, hit send.

* * *

 **Max** was lost.

Paralyzed.

Out of tears.

Out of breath.

Out of hope.

Vibration. Phone.

On her side in the cold and dark, she slid it out of her pocket slowly, without conviction. It slipped from her hand, fell to the roof. Fumbling, she brought it close to her face. Lock screen. Text. From Michaels. Two words.

Eyes up

Max lowered the phone, refocused on the horizon.

Every animated digital sign, every enticing casino display, every flat or curved programmable surface of light on the strip and across the city were lit up, bright, static, unblinking.

Each held a picture of Max. Frozen in a run, looking over her shoulder, ice cream bowl in hand, eyes bright, laughing.

She shot upright.

 _Chloe?! How? When?_

Her heart raced. "Oh my god I love you so much _you beautiful fucking genius!"_

She picked herself up, tears flowing freely. Joy this time.

A little hop.

Laughing, spinning on a rooftop where Chloe died.

Max was never alone.

"Yes!"

Not losing any more time, she focused on the nearest image. Jumped. Back to her.

… _to us._


	12. Found

**Max** landed the jump with her destination body already in mid-run. Lost her balance on entry, tripped and fell across the floor, bowl clattering to the wall, ice cream splattering across the tile in contrasting colors.

Chloe, running behind her, burst out laughing as she skidded to a stop. "Dude you are such a fucking klutz sometimes. You ok?" She reached to help her up.

Max turned, eyes joyful, leapt up and tackled Chloe, crashing them both to the ground in the other direction, rolling together, squeezing her tight.

Chloe's ice cream splattered and blopped down the side wall.

Max planted a big, sloppy, happy kiss on her before Chloe could react. _Chloe!_ "I'm so fucking happy to see you! You have no idea! You saved us! _Oh my god that was so fucking close._ You're so my fucking hero! You were _gone._ I thought I lost you forever. But you _saved_ us, Chloe!" She cut herself off inside another kiss.

Chloe rolled them, ending up on top. Slowly, softly, broke lip contact. "Um…hi. You know I love you, and I dig your spacey enthusiasm. But you're not talking about my super sexy outfit or the ice cream treats, are you?" Her eyes followed the trail of ice cream down the wall.

"Y _ou were killed Chlo_! I was drugged and taken by a teleporting Russian assassin dude, I broke free, but the army and police were also trying to rescue me, but I couldn't get back because the Russians burned everything, every photo, parents house, everything - I was trapped on the other side of you. I was lost. You were lost. Then one picture, from here, just now, showed up all over on signs, and I was able to use that to jump and here I am! You _so_ fucking rule!"

Chloe pushed up on one arm, concerned. "So much for testing the deadman switch. That means all that shit happens in the next 24 hours."

"Deadman switch? Um. Yeah - we have some time. They don't move 'til tomorrow morning around 9 - starts on the rooftop. We have to do a few things before then, but it'll all be okay now."

"Okay, good. 12-hour warning is way better than 3 minutes. We're improving, so…yay? And Russians? You know what, can we hover over that for more detail? Yeah?" Chloe wrinkled her brow.

Max sat up. "Yeah - but for real - how the fuck did you know, Chloe? How did you know to do that? _How_ did you do that?"

"Pictures? No, I mean, I didn't. I've been working with a few outside people on this for a couple weeks. Personal project. Twice a day, I have to punch a code into this website. If I don't for any reason, it means something shitty happened to me or you or both of us, which triggers the release of safety pictures out in public for you."

Max scanned the room. Lingered on the desk. "Laptop?"

Chloe nodded. "Plus the small network cameras here and there, in the car, a few other places. Take a picture any time they detect motion, uploaded offsite. If it's you, the pictures are copied from there to places around the internet, a few password protected drops. Private social accounts, whatever. If I don't type in the code in time, that sets everything in motion."

"You set all this up, and hacked all those signs and everything?" _Mad sidekick skills._

Chloe laughed, "Oh, hell no. You'd be impressed with how low tech this is, Analog Girl. We put some people to work tracking down the people who maintain or operate all the various signs across the strip. It's a finite universe -only a hundred-and-twenty plus, across shifts.

"This was proof of concept, so we gave them each an assload of side-cash each to participate in a 'guerrilla marketing campaign' for a made-up convention. Short notice, short fuse, total mystery timing. A missed code punch triggers the email and MMS blast to everyone, along with the most recent Max pic. Plus, links and passwords to file drops, accounts on instaface or whatever else we've squirreled things away. Outsourced call center on standby for the phone tree thing, confirming everyone is alerted and on it - they have to put the pic up on their shit within 20 minutes for at least 20 minutes. That's what we've got so far."

"Well, it totally passed my test, Chloe. You have no idea. I don't know what I would have done. I…wasn't handling things well over there." Max caressed Chloe's cheek.

Chloe smiled. "Just you wait. I've got peeps working on the next level shit. Taking the alerts global. Crowdsourced. coin bounties for pwning digital signage around the world, cable TV news tickers, takeovers of web and mobile ad network servers, auto-MMS and email spamming, video - anything in the public view.

"Turn the web loose on it. Let them figure out how to hack everything. Only way to scale it big, fast and loud. Pay 'em a butt-ton for helping. Or people can print out pics and put 'em up, signs, posters, projectors on the sides of buildings, anything - text a picture as proof, post on twitter, whatever with the hashtag #TimeWarrior and they get 10k each. It's gonna be fucking epic. We set aside all the money, but if it works, you reset, and it never happened. Keep the money. Genius!"

Max squinted. "You…seem…useful. I think I might keep you."

"Awww." Chloe batted her eyes; faux fanned herself. "That's the sweetest thing you've said to me just now. Anyway, we've been busy on lots of shit, but I was gonna tell you once it was all set up. There's more. Logins for you to different sites, running chronologies that let you go to any day you want online, blah blah blah. Like Time Machine, but for…you. I saw you'd been taking a picture every morning, figured we were on the same page."

Max laid back down. "It's probably better you didn't tell me yet. The telepath woman would have seen it in my head and might have fucked it up somehow."

"Why didn't the telepath see it in mine? Wait - what _telepath_? Shit. For reals? Storytime?"

"Yeah…about that…" Max told Chloe everything that happened. Even her downward spiral toward the end. Max was still on her back when she finished the story. She hadn't yet let go of Chloe's hand.

Chloe leaned down and kissed her. "I should…put on some…underwear or pants or…something."

"Hearing all that, that's your _first_ reaction?" Max laughed.

"Second. I kissed you first. Just now. Remember? You were here." Chloe rested her chin on her knee. "And I _am_ kinda hanging out here in the wind in nothing but this t-shirt. Sounds like we have some midnight prep-work and shenanigans to do. Superpowered international assassins to deal with? Giant fucking question mark on the plan there? So I'm guessing my original 'evil hot tub seduction plan' is a low probability event, yeah?"

Max frowned. Patted Chloe's thigh. "Oh, Chloe - I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, it was an awesome plan. You totally seduced me, took complete advantage of me in fact. We didn't come back down until after 3 am."

"I hate you." Chloe scowled. Softened. "I mean, yes - I'm glad for you, I'm glad you had happy-time. Shit, I've been thinking about this all day. Sad for me is all. _Me_ me, I mean, not other me? Whatever. Another time. Priorities. Living. Secret armies. Etcetera."

Max lifted up on her elbows. Side-eyed Chloe. "I could jump back to the other timeline, see if I can get you a copy of the official government surveillance video if that would help?"

Chloe shot her an icy stare. "We're gonna have to do something about that whole spy drone sex-camera thing at some point, right? I mean, I know you wanted video, but—"

"Yeah. I'll…work on that. But hey - just so we're clear - after what you just pulled off for us, I am so gonna make it up to you when this is over. You know I will, too. You and I both owe you big time."

"You better."

Chloe got up, headed to the bedroom to gear up.

* * *

 **Chloe** ransacked the top drawer, hunting for appropriate underwear. Threw open the closet, puzzling over her wardrobe options for their late-night adventure.

 _Least the fucking backup plan worked._

They'd only run the initial setup with the call center two days before, after signing contracts.

 _'Too fucking close' was right._

She'd have to expand the team to accelerate development of phase two. Needed a real company to manage it full-time. Buried within a marketing agency front end or some shit that made sense. Programmatic mechanisms for getting things out fast. New York or LA maybe?

 _And a backup of that backup._

Maybe a third redundant company under a different umbrella would work. Make it hard for anyone to take everything out all at once. Perhaps more layers of automated failsafes too. Something to discuss tomorrow.

 _Okay, Fashion. Ripped jeans? Check. High leather boots? Check. Technical outerwear, or biker jacket? Hmmm._

Max jumping back years would have sucked. In theory. Invisible to Chloe. She'd cease to exist as she was this far along the timeline. Wake up to another life with no memory of having lived to her present.

 _Does consciousness move over with overwritten memories, or is it like a photocopy? How much of what I am is awareness, and how much is history?_

The resulting Chloe wouldn't know there was ever a different path - but would the 'her' that was here now continue at all?

 _Or is it like dying, and a different version takes over?_

She had no sense of discontinuity when Max did rewinds or reset jumps, but if she were the most recent copy, she'd think she was there all along anyway. She also didn't feel like the paralyzed OtherChloe was her when Max told her the story. But would she? Did the last Chloe continue sideways to the new timeline and remain her, or embrace nothingness?

 _Shit. I need weed for this. Okay. Stop fucking around. Biker jacket. Next. Tactical beanie? Or spikey mop? What…makes this beanie 'tactical' anyway?_

In the end, she decided it didn't matter. There was nothing she could do about it. And living in fear of Max's next jump would be a crippling existence. She'd assume continuity and not worry. Not like the living version of her at any point would experience anything different anyway, right?

 _It's not like I have a sense of continuity when I fall asleep, is it? Be like trying to measure a jump of self-identity to a digital consciousness at the point of singularity. A copy or a transfer? Couldn't tell from outside. And it couldn't tell from inside. We won't even be able to tell the difference between a simulation and real consciousness at that point. Not without getting inside its head, which we can't do with people-people either._

 _Oh. Aside from telepaths, apparently._ _Crap. Good point._ _That telepaths exist at all pretty much confirms we're all real, not simulations. Unless the telepaths are programmed to say that? Shit._

 _I need to stop reading those blogs._

 _Or I need more weed._

 _Probably weed._

She had pants on now, so that was something. Regrettably, sadly, something.

 _No beanie. Leg rig though. Open carry night._

"Okay, Max. Ready." Chloe emerged from their bedroom. "Max?"

"In here."

 _Ah. War room._

While Chloe attended to her wardrobe, Max had busied herself with pens and hastily scrawled sticky notes. On the future timeline wall, she'd added a mini-section below the main line with a rough diagram of the following 24 hours. People, places, events. On the mystery assailant wall, she created new sections for the US and Russian groups, with names and a few other details. Plus placeholders for 'other nations' in vague.

Max pointed her phone at Chloe, snapped a picture as she entered the room. Returned her attention to the wall.

"Safety?"

Max looked over her shoulder, scanned Chloe up and down. "No, you just look hot in those boots." Bit her lower lip. Smiled.

"You're adorkable. So what's our plan Maximus?" Chloe playfully bumped into Max before sitting down, leaning back and kicking her feet up.

"What time is it? 9:30? Okay, so we have eleven and a half hours until you were shot and I was snatched in the original timeline." Max pointed at sticky notes in the mini-timeline as she organized thoughts. "The fire here started around the same time. So that's all three of our bad guys accounted for at 9 am tomorrow. The short man was probably the sniper, somewhere out there. To the north, I think. The bald man, Alexander, is the one who drugged and took me. Which means the telepath is probably the one who set the fires here. From what John told me in the last timeline - John was the dude working for the US group - teleportation only works from point to point, and they have to be able to see where they're going. It's also supposedly super draining. Which means the telepath is either already here somewhere below us, or she hustles over here before 9 tomorrow to set the fires. With me so far?"

"Yep." Chloe clasped her hands behind her head.

"Someone set fire to my parents' house at same time. Fourth person. Or a separate crew. Whatever."

"Right - how do we deal with that?" _Shit. Seattle too?_

Max pointed, "We also have the couple they killed in the hotel where they kept me. I know the room."

"Cops, or maybe we call in a bomb threat?" _Or go ourselves?_

Max shrugged. Paced. "Maybe. Something. Okay. What we don't know is where the three Russians are right now. They're somewhere."

"Everyone is somewhere, Max. Some, apparently in two somewheres at once?"

Max put her hands on her hips. Turned. "Yeah. In order of timing, we should see if we take over a few more floors, push everyone down. Offer them ridiculous cash, see if it works? Then call in additional contractors to help secure things tonight. She's a telepath, but that won't help her get past armed men positioned in hallways and stairwells. They should make sure it's in groups of two, just in case she brings a friend. If we can push the perimeter back, then her only way in will be with Alexander. That'll take energy to jump her in, maybe leave him weaker on the roof. A thought. We can also park some guys on this floor before 9, so she can't set the fires once she gets over here. I don't want to lose our stuff again."

"How close does she have to be to read minds?" Chloe folded her arms behind her head. Almost lost balance.

Max laughed. "Careful. And…I don't know exactly. None of these powers are infinite though. Let's call it 50 feet? Guess, but whatever."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Okay, so we buy out five more floors, and what, hope that by the time she gets up here, she won't know what's up?"

Max leaned against the wall, scanning the board. "Yeah - let's come back to that. Any contractors we bring in shouldn't have any idea what the plan is. She can't pull what they don't know. I don't know if Alexander would be able to jump all three of us out, so she may get left behind regardless. Need a plan for that. Let's get the pieces on the board first. We probably need to get that couple out of their room soon, too. They're only a couple of miles away. I don't know how long they were dead, but let's assume they're still alive, if not for long. Quick trip."

Chloe puzzled at the board. "Lot of moving parts." _She's a boss right now. In her element. Pirate Captain. SuperMax. Fragile too. Guess we both can be. Especially about each other. But damn she bounces back fast - how did she go from hopeless to focused so quickly? How are we not complete basket cases after all of this? What the hell are we even talking about? Russians? Psychic assaults? Military?! Yeah, okay - fucking time travel. But Jesus, we'd be unrecognizable to ourselves even two months ago._

Max continued, "…three bad guys here. One or more in Seattle. One in LA, if we count the guy working for the Russians on the US team - from John's text. Five bad guys confirmed, maybe more. Two victims to move. One parental domicile to protect. Three more floors of the hotel to try to buy out. Pull in ten or fifteen additional security guys. Then we need to develop a solid plan to deal with the bad guys between now and then. You can't be on the roof so long as that sniper is out there. No arguments." Max turned, arms crossed. "They were aiming for you."

"Assholes. Max - elephant in the room?" Chloe took her feet off the table, leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

Max raised her eyebrows. Sighed. "Is it an actual elephant? I'm not sure I could deal with a real elephant in our room right now."

"Hahaha. Cute. No, but for the first time in our lives, if that was something we wanted, we could totally get one. Anyway — we can do all this running around on our own, sure. Still fuzzy on the part about how we take down the bad guys in the morning, but time traveler, knows the future, element of surprise - I can buy that. Cautionary note about little to no sleep, of course. But with Seattle, LA, I'm just asking - do you want to keep this at just us, or…where you stand on the whole US government super-team cavalry thing?"

"I don't know. I don't know on any of this Chloe. Just trying to get everything up on the board so we can see it. Figured we'd make decisions and a real plan together?" Done scribbling, Max sat next to her.

"Okay. Thank you. But…do you trust them?"

Max shrugged. "I don't know yet. They were the real deal though. Those army helicopters were no fucking joke. These guys were big, well armed, and kinda badass. Every one of them treated me with respect, though - and I'm sure I just looked like some geeky girl to them, you know? They knew what was up with the powered people."

"What about John?"

Max fidgeted. "He seemed sincere mostly. But I got the feeling he was ahead of me in the conversation. Maybe a little too smooth? I don't know. He alerted me to your sign pictures when they went live. Answered all of my questions before then, knowing his timeline would end. They mounted an armed assault to try to rescue me. Wrong building, but it's the thought, yeah? Wasn't a douche, wasn't power-trippy. I wanna trust him. But seemed to be lots of layers above him, and we don't know any of what that looks like. Plus, I've had bad luck trusting charming, roguish types in the past."

"He's a smooth, charming rogue, is he? Should I be worried?" Chloe laughed.

Max booped Chloe's nose. "Nah. He's got that whole 'I'm not Chloe Price' thing going on. Not into it."

"Suck-up." Rolled her eyes at Max.

"Mwah. I don't know. They're a possible resource. They already know all about us, so it's not like we're a secret or anything. They don't know everything, but as long as we keep their telepaths away, they don't need to."

"How do we do that?" Chloe crossed her legs.

Max threw up her hands. "No idea. For reals. I'm at a loss on a lot of this. They don't know that we know that they know yet. Did I say that right? That's something. There may be a way to each get something out of this. I'd prefer they feel like we're dealing with them voluntarily, as equals - an even exchange at least. It's not even close, but whatever. My parents aren't on equal footing with the government, and they aren't in a war or anything. I'm just trying to figure out what we lose by getting everything out in the open, you know? What do you think?" Max turned her chair to face Chloe.

Chloe looked at the ceiling. Cobweb in one of the recessed lights. A few dark spots she knew to be bugs. Trapped. Baking. "Thankfully, nothing bad has ever happened to anyone who trusted authority."

Max chuckled. "Cynic. So that's a 'no?'"

Chloe met Max's eyes. "Realist. And not necessarily. I don't think it's black and white. We don't have to trust them to use them, while trying to limit how we're used. They're heavy machinery. Machinery goes in predictable paths. Sometimes horrible, predictable paths. We're outgunned, out-resourced, outmanned, and they have every level of institution of control of _the country_ potentially involved in their little secret games. What they aren't is _public_. So we can't know what their agendas are. They may not even know. If we ask for help, what will they want in return? Not just now, but in the future? And how are they likely to react if we try to refuse to join a horrible, predictable path?"

Max folded her hands. "I know. But if we come at them straight with an offer, maybe it keeps us independent and neutral? Not a threat, but not at their beck and call either?"

"What are we thinking? Do we need them? I know I brought it up - just asking." Chloe's eyes danced between the future board and the enemies board.

Max counted off fingers. "We need someone who can cover my parents' house. I don't want it to burn down. That would suck hard. We could use backup here if some wildcard shit hits the fan that we can't deal with. Extra power people, powers don't work; wildcards. So two things. And we _are_ trying to take on two, maybe three powered people here at least."

"You did it before." Chloe crossed her arms.

"Yeah, but I squished them. And destroyed yet another building. Not there yet on the whole 'control' thing. Anyway, we want our new friends to ease back on the spy cams, too, right? So three small things we probably need outside help with. And we happen to have five things to offer them in exchange."

Chloe put it together. "The agents?"

"Right." Max nodded. "We know the names of two, and we know where all five will be tomorrow morning. At least one of them is someone they've been after for 25 years. Another is a secret traitor in their own 'Max&Chloe' task force. The one who nuked their files, and almost condemned us to a perma-wipe by the way, so that's half our score to settle too."

"It's up to you Max." Chloe scooted closer. "I agree with you in principle. I'm just not sure how we keep control of our destinies. Government, defense, corporate, plus others. Shit's _way_ too big for me. It's like a full-on 'The Man' convention, you know? My deep and abiding love for authority aside, they all have historically bad track records with just about everything that matters to us. We can see their agendas written in history. Ours is trying to prevent some of the shit they thrive on. Where's our leverage to stay free? Aside from you running the timelines ragged, I mean?"

Max glanced at the floor, then back to Chloe. Shrugged. "We don't have any now. Other than they haven't figured us out yet. But, aside from the obvious superpowers, we have your brilliance and charm? They're already all up in our shit. They say that they're just keeping tabs on us to protect us, but that seems unlikely, right?"

Chloe held out her hands, shrugged. "I don't think it's one thing, necessarily. People we meet could be great. But governments, corporations, they were designed to be bigger than the people, right? Things could change without anyone seeming responsible. It's machinery. Some faraway board can shift directions completely. Go back on promises. Bureaucracies take on a life of their own. History isn't about personal squabbles between individual people, mostly. It's about structures running into each other, running over people, or running rampant. Tyranny is an architecture."

"That's all from song lyrics, isn't it?" Max squinted.

Chloe smiled. "Busted. But that doesn't make it not true."

"Ehn. Friendly faces aside, somewhere in there they have to be trying to figure out how to use us. _If_ they can use us. Maybe not John, but said they've never seen anyone outside of the few basic powers I told you about. I don't know. It's the Russians today. Tomorrow it may be someone else. That's the other thing. If the word is out or whatever that there's someone with something new - feels like a big target painted on little us. Not sure how we undo that. I'm not sure we want to live with that kind of fear. Do we?"

"Having backup on call isn't the worst idea?" Chloe shook her head. _I don't like where this is going. How did we get here?_

"Backup was helpful last timeline." Max made a frowny-face.

"Is it worth it though? _Could_ we do it on our own? I'm worried. Time travel would be a hell of a weapon for any of them to get a hold of, Max."

Max stood up. Leaned on the table in front of Chloe. "Nothing happens without my cooperation. And if they tried to force it, they'd be stupid to turn me loose on a time-manipulation mission after. They have to know it would bite them. I think maybe this - showing that we're willing to work with them where our agendas overlap - might be the best chance at keeping things balanced. At least 'til we get our bearings. You're the one who said we should take over the world, and that I was practically a god. Maybe we act like it? Refuse to be intimidated by people?"

Chloe was quiet. Turning things over in her head. "Max, this feels like it should be a whole different and very long conversation between us, involving wine or beer or something." Chloe fidgeted with her leg holster. "I don't feel like we've got time to process all the implications of this."

"I don't disagree Chlo, but we're gonna run out of time if we wait. And we do need to make some decisions and get going tonight."

Chloe looked past Max to the boards again, leaned forward. "I don't like it, but yeah, they're already all up in our shiznit. So maybe we try this, try to manage it from there. If shit goes super-sideways maybe you jump back to right now and prevent us from doing it?" Chloe took a picture, sent it to Max's phone. "Still here? Still you?"

Max waited, looked around. "Nothing. Still me."

"Don't know if I should be relieved or worried." _Shit. What does that mean?_

"This is a long-term play for us, Chloe. We're still so brand new right now, it sucks. But if we keep things under control, move carefully, in ten or twenty years, we may own most of this ourselves, and maybe use them to help us steer the world away from wars and destruction and food chain collapse and eco-collapse and new dark ages - all the bad shit we know is heading our way. If we don't take over some existing structures, we'll have to build them ourselves - you know that."

"I don't want us to be someone else's tool." She took Max's hand in hers.

"This has a network of people and power already plugged in. We'll have to deal with them soon anyway. Maybe we learn as we go, and slowly turn them to our agenda? I'd like to have us all not fighting with each other. Other similar groups around the world too. We should be working together to help people. Help make things better. I think that as corny as it is, Spiderman had the right idea with the whole 'responsibility' thing."

Chloe thought for a moment. _Are we sure?_ "You know who else thought they had a responsibility? Vader."

Max pulled away. "Ugh. Totally different. The work of helping people didn't corrupt him. He was corrupted because of secrets, forbidden love, fear of loss, and outside influence of a fucking Sith Lord."

"All true. But it happened slowly, over years, through manipulation. Little things here and there. Trying to protect the person he loved. They added up. Changed him. And he still lost the girl in the end anyway." _Apropos cinema-parablisms brought to you by baked movie nights with Rachel._

Max shook her head. "I don't see us like that. Dark or light. Hard binary slippery slopes. I see us more like the Doctor and his plucky sidekick. Cheerful. Indomitable. Always a way."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Are you for real? You know things didn't always end super awesome for the companions, right?"

"A few, sure. But you're my one and only companion, Chloe." Max said the last a little too sharp.

Chloe stuck out her tongue. "Wait. Why are we arguing about this again? Oh. Right. You know at some point - and I'm just gonna say this cause it's super fucking obvious - someone, somewhere in their faceless whatever is going to give us the 'work for us and do our bidding or else' speech. And we'll take 'or else,' cause what fucking choice will we have if they're awful enough to give us that as an ultimatum. And then they'll see us as a threat, you as something to control - and they'll come after me, against which I have no defenses. And then they'll use me to control you, cause I'm your fucking kryptonite. You see all this too, right?"

"Crossed my mind as a worst case, yeah," Max sat, chin in her hands, eyes down.

Chloe sat up straight. "So let's play this through - so we know what we might be getting ourselves into if we do this tonight."

Max sighed, frustrated. "Yeah. Okay."

"Final test Max. This is your Kobayashi Maru. They turn out to be complete assmonsters. They get me, cause how can they not, but you can't get to me for whatever magical, fucked up reason. They want you to do some horrible shit to other people or whatever. Where do we go with this? What do you do?"

Max wrinkled her brow. "I don't know Chloe. What choices have I already made to keep you safe?"

 _She's not taking this seriously yet._ "No Max - that's the wrong answer. Fuck that - that was different. We've talked about this. This is something else. It's not us vs. Them, and they lose. This isn't 'let a force of nature run its course.' This is you, my Max, being told to inflict intentional harm and suffering on innocent people. Or at least people we have no conflict with. People who don't deserve it. Max - I know that you couldn't. They'd never let me go under any circumstances. So they press hard. If they could control you, you'd do things and hate yourself and lose everything you are. Everything we love. You can't do that. Not ever. _Promise me._ "

Max pushed back. "Chloe, dude - I'm not like that. I've saved more birds than I've hurt people. I'll always find another way. A little forward to go back. Sometimes there may be grey loops I have to go through to get back where we started. I'll _always_ take the Kirk route. Cheat. Change the fucking rules. I mean, I can do things now I couldn't do a week ago. If we can hold them off, even for a little while, who knows where I'll be in another month. Or year? And yes - it could get this bad, in the _absolute worst case_. But what if it's not? What if this is like working with the police? Or like being a government consultant? Millions of people do that every day, and it's a job. There's no nefarious plot, no kidnapping loved ones to get them to come to work, right?"

"Bad model. None of those ordinary people are _you_ , Max. Not one." Chloe locked eyes with her. "Honestly, I'd be scared shitless of anyone with kind of power you have if it was _anyone_ but you. As you are. Under your own control. With your sense of morality and fairness and love of squirrels and crazy, goofy, dorky you-ness. Any of that changes, goes even mildly dark, and I worry that you could amplify things we're trying to prevent, you know? Something that tips the scales the _wrong way_. Now imagine how those control freaks in power must feel about someone like you? Will feel. They can't let you wander around out here like a loaded gun. See where this is going?"

"I do, but what do you want me to do Chloe? Inaction isn't an option either. Tried that. Failed."

Chloe held up her hand, pinky out. "I think we have to have some rules of our own if we do this Max. And I need you to super mega-pinky-swear that you'll never break them. Not for me. Not ever."

"Chloe, we're way beyond that at this point. I don't want to cause _anyone_ any harm. I've never gone looking for a fight. You know me. I'd be super happy living forever in a loft on the sea with you. End of story. I won't hurt people on the orders of others - fuck that. I've defended myself. I've defended us. And I'll defend our mission, the future. I'll defend, to the best of our ability, against the atrocities and horrors we both know are coming, while respecting the rights of people, freedom, self-determination, all that shit. Those are the things that matter."

Chloe pressed. "What if they give you no choice?"

"There's _always_ a choice. I'll change the fucking rules of reality if I have to. I won't be a bully."

"Even with a gun to my head? Be honest with yourself Max. Be sure."

"If someone puts you up against a wall and commands me to do terrible shit or you die, maybe you die. I don't like it. But it happens every fucking day."

Chloe paused, shrugged and nodded at that. _She has a point. A disturbing point I'd rather not dwell on. But a point nonetheless._

Max continued, "I'll find a way to bring you back. Even if it takes a lifetime. Time traveler." Max raised her hand, waved it around overhead. "Probably immortal? Maybe we lose a few years. Maybe it's too early; maybe you don't love me back; maybe we have to repeat some shit, whatever. Maybe I'll be super fucking sad. But I won't be a tool for anyone but us. Not even a _tiny_ tool." She said the last with a smile.

 _She's trying to lighten the mood, but I need her to hear this plain. At least once._

Chloe took Max's hands in her own. "It breaks my heart to think how they might change you if they could. It's the only way they'd get what they want out of you. And they _will_ want what they want out of you. Someone, at some point, is gonna try."

Max held her gaze. "Chloe. I am Max. Fucking. Caulfield. Time Warrior. And I _am_ fucking amazing." She gave a small laugh and warm smile, pulled her hands away. "Nothing bad has happened yet. Don't lose faith in me. Please?"

Chloe pulled Max forward, out of her chair and into her lap, arm around her waist. "I'm not Max. I haven't. It's not just us at stake here is all, you know? I meant every word when I said that. You have a world-shaping superpower. And you _are_ fucking amazing. And the people who've grown to have real power in this world are aware of you. I know you're you. I just…wanted to make sure that we turned over these rocks is all."

Max rested her head on Chloe's. "I know Chloe, I do. But we have our own agenda. I've seen what happens - parts of it anyway. No person or creature out there, living or yet to be born, can afford to have us fuck this up. I know what's at stake."

"No pressure at all, right? And I'm not worried Max. But this is a big scary floodlit stage we're about to walk out on. And I needed to know, for me if nothing else, that you really understand how much harm you could cause if you let them make you - and I need to know that you know that I am not okay with that. Just so we've talked about all of this before anything could happen. So we could look ourselves in the eye later and say that we talked about all of this, and made the best decisions we could."

"I'll _always_ find a way through Chloe."

"That may not always be possible Max. Remember how you felt a few hours ago. It's blind fucking luck we're still here right now."

Max kissed Chloe's cheek. "No, it isn't. That was one-hundred-percent Chloe fucking Price. I have faith in you too, you know? I fall, you pick me up. Next turn is mine. That's how it works. The final timeline will always be shiny, babe. Promise."

"It's about you too, though. It's not just about what you do in the final timeline that counts. Fuck _time_. Everything you do along the way writes itself into _your_ lifeline. Karma, your soul, your psyche, whatever. The pain you might inflict still happens to someone. Maybe you undo it, but the Choice to act or not, the act of doing it, adds or subtracts from who you are. _It all matters._ I don't want to see you become someone else, someone you'd hate, trying in vain to save me. If it comes to that choice, stay on the light side. It's too dangerous for you and everyone else if you go dark. If there's a 'what would Chloe want' question that ever comes up, that's it - don't go fucking dark-side. I just…needed to say that."

"It's important to both of us that I don't lose myself. I know. And if it comes down to a hard choice, I'll remember what you said. But if you're ever in a dark place, and you have any doubts - remember what I'm saying. Believe in _us,_ Chloe. We'll always find a way."

Chloe nodded. Nuzzled Max. "Okay. You know I do. Make the call."

* * *

 **Max** didn't know why she thought the business card from Michaels and the passports from the Russians would come with her when she jumped back. _Photo jumps aren't rewinds. Even if I stay._ _Dumbass._

Thankfully, she remembered the number. Which was a fluke. She wasn't usually all that great at recalling them.

Phone on the table between her and Chloe, she dialed.

A voice through the speaker, "This is Michaels."

"Hi, John. Max. Hey - I need a favor."

"…Max?"

"Caulfield. Yeah." _This will be fun._

Chloe stifled a giggle.

"…you're…calling me? You know who I am…"

"Yes. I know. I'm here. Doing that. Um. I can hear you snapping. Do you want me to wait until they can start recording? Or are you trying to put me on speaker? It would be better if Sam were on too if he's still there? I assume you're not trying to run a trace. I see at least two drones blinking from here. You should be able to verify that I'm on the phone at my present location. See me waving?"

"…Max, you have us at a disadvantage. I'm…not sure how to respond."

"Just let me know when I'm on with everyone. I only want to go over this once. Pressed for time, unforch."

Chloe shook her head, made bowing motions at Max.

Max shushed her and smacked her hand. _Trying to be serious here!_

"Okay Max, you'll hear a click as we transfer you from my mobile to the room line. Stand by."

"K."

Michaels, sounding more distant, "Okay Max. You're live. What…uh…what can we do for you?"

"Thanks, John, I assume everyone can hear me? Great. So first off, hi, everyone. Sorry to call so late. We thought it was time we met more formally in this reality. Oh…and Chloe says hi, too. We have a favor to ask, but something in exchange that you might find valuable."

"Max, my name is Samuel Williams. I'm senior operational lead at this facility. Nice to meet you. You can imagine that we're surprised to receive your call."

"Hi, Sam. I understand. In this reality, you've been keeping tabs on us for a few months, but we gather we haven't had direct contact yet. Time we broke the ice here too. There's a mutual opportunity, but the window is tight. Time is running short - I'm sure you appreciate the irony in that statement, coming from me."

"How can we help, Max?"

"A few things. All related. But first one for you. Is Mortensen there?"

"Um…hi?…I'm him…he."

"Sorry, Mortensen. He's been playing for the Russians. In approximately fourteen hours, he triggers code that wipes most of your file storage, backups, and so on, erasing everything related to me and this…operation. Just a heads-up. That one's free."

 _"That's a lie. That…it's not true at all!"_

"Left inside pocket. Micro USB. The wipe is part of an op a Russian team is staging here in Vegas. We're their targets. They fail. Comically. But they cause us certain inconveniences in the process better avoided. Still with me?"

"Yes Max, we are. We've also detained Mr. Mortensen for further inquiry. Thought you should be aware if you were going to direct any questions his way; he's no longer present."

"Thank you - very considerate to let us know Sam. Here's the outline. Alexander Vankin is leading an extraction team - I'm flattered, but yeah. He's working with a blonde telepath, curly hair, blue eyes, probably 35-ish. I didn't get her name before her…expiration, but she's here. And there's one other, sharpshooter type, shorter guy. Didn't catch his name either. Wasn't enough left. I don't know exactly where they are at this moment, but I know where they'll be tomorrow at 9 am local. If that's of any interest to you all?"

"Max, we might be able to lend a hand. What did you have in mind?"

"All three ended up casualties in my last reality, but it occurs to me that they might have value to you alive if you're interested in acquiring them. Happy to help make that happen. Now, this isn't conditional, but in the spirit of goodwill and cooperation, I'm wondering if you all might be willing to lend a couple of quick assists? There's another Russian team that's going to target my parents' house in Seattle around the same time with some incendiary devices. It will look like a gas leak or explosion. I'd appreciate if their house was left intact, and my parents undisturbed and unaware of the danger. Figured you guys might want access to one or more additional agents of theirs, for exchange purposes if nothing else? One of your sibling companies still has a couple of operatives in detention from that thing in the Baltic last month? If that's the case in this reality, I mean. Things do change."

"I think we'd be happy to help Max. I appreciate that."

"Cool. That's basically it. We have a few civilians to move out of harm's way before they become collateral damage, but otherwise, Chloe and I will be here at our hotel. We're clearing some floors, bringing in extra security of our own, but I'm planning to meet Vankin on the rooftop around 9 am. He doesn't know that we're expecting him, but that's how these sorts of things tend to work. Is that a sufficient amount of lead time, or would you prefer that I let you know a couple of hours ago?"

"No Max, that should be fine. Plenty of time."

"Great. Appreciate it Sam. We're gonna bounce for a bit, grab some food. Why don't you have John and a few of the tac-ops guys meet us at our suite around 4 am? The Russian team is keeping a light eye on us, so come in by ground, quiet. That gives you guys more than enough time to get out here and leaves about 5 hours on-site for planning and coordination. We'll have some coffee and pastries brought up for the boys. How does that sound?"

"I think that will work fine, Max. Very considerate. Please do let your security staff know to expect our team? Better to avoid misunderstandings. We'd appreciate that."

"Will do, Sam. You have our mobile numbers if anything comes up. Feel free to have a drone or two tag along with us. I'd still keep one on the residence for safety. It's okay. We're used to them - the second pair of eyes have proven helpful to both of us in prior cooperative efforts."

"Bye Max. We'll see you in a couple of hours."

"Bye, everyone. See ya, John."

Max disconnected the call.

Chloe was dumbfounded.

"What?" asked Max, standing.

Chloe, eyes wide, "Dude - that was fucking _epic_. I don't know why I was ever worried about this. You fuckin' ran them. I…I don't even know who you are right now."

Max laughed. "Oh right - yeah, it probably looked that way didn't it. Oh my god, I was winging it. How long were we on the phone?"

"A few minutes?"

"Haha. Was closer to a half hour for me. That's right - you've never watched me do this before. Well, that's how that goes." Max helped Chloe up.

"Fuckin' hell. You come off like such a big kid, Max. For reals. I'm hella impressed."

Max headed for the bedroom. Lingered outside. "You'd be way less impressed if you saw it in my time stream. Lots of rewinding, probing questions, asking things of different people, feeding that back in leading questions with other people, bad, awkward pauses, sounding like a complete dork, getting shit totally wrong, looking like an idiot, then once I have the info I need, I basically feed it back to them smooth as butter to navigate to the outcome I want. It's a skill." She blew on her nails, buffed them against her shirt.

Chloe laughed, "It's a total cheat code, but I fucking love it. You're right. This is a side I didn't get to see. Why do I feel like you could talk your way into or out of anything you wanted?"

Max paused. "I don't think it's gonna work as well with a telepath in the room. Need to figure out a way to disable that shit if we're gonna work with these people with any regularity. Like I said earlier - I don't want them to take us for scrubs, you know? Anyway…"

Chloe pushed Max through the door. "You should change. If we're going out on the town to eat and save a few lives, you might want to go a little more Neo. Some black leather pants. Badass cape, whatever it is you superhero people wear."

Max smiled innocently. "I think it's slightly more terrifying for everyone if I show up looking super cute. Help me pick something out?"

"Don't ever change Max."

"Insert groan here?"

"Ugh."

"I missed you, Chloe."


	13. Frenemies

**Michaels** disconnected the room speaker. Turning to Samuel, he said "Vegas then?"

Samuel agreed, adding "Something…obviously. Take Miss Margaret with you? I'd like to see if we can catch up on what we missed. She has us at an intel deficit and I'd prefer we not remain that way."

"Will do." Michaels said. "And why did she keep using the phrase 'realities' instead of say, timeline or past or future? It didn't seem random."

"Her assumptions about where we are on her might be incorrect? Didn't sound like a slip, so I'm guessing she's assuming we know more than we do. Maybe we did where she came from. But she is bringing us a huge feather. There's something in it for her too, but that's not something you do for someone you're not friendly with." offered one of the analysts.

"So does that mean we've recruited her in the future then?" asked another.

"I don't know. It probably means we're not in open conflict at least. But if she is jumping back, then something obviously didn't go to her plan at some point in the future. We just don't know what that is, if that's good or bad for us, what our relationship with her was or will be with her at that time, and how far in the future that might be." said Michaels.

The first analyst offered, "But if she is doing something with branching realities or something, she may be jumping way behind us, changing things and moving forward to us in a different configuration. Or sideways and simply jumping from reality to reality until she finds one that suits her needs. So what we've taken for granted as a predictable buffering behavior - she and Chloe are in Vegas, they've amassed wealth and are buying property, organizations and hiring protection - if that's all something new, something she constructed just before contacting us, or something she found among available realities, what does that mean? What's her plan?"

Samuel jumped back in. "It doesn't matter. No way to prove anything without getting in her head. She's offering to work with us directly, and bringing us an opportunity to capture five Russian operatives, including Vankin. We can't pass any of this up. Once Miss Margaret does her thing, we'll know where we stand with Max, and if it changes anything about how we proceed with her after. Meantime, take a team Michaels. You've got whatever you need. Treat her like family to start. Let's see where this goes."

* * *

 **Chloe** and Max were on their way up to the fourth floor. They'd only hit one button, but the elevator was stopping at each level regardless. It was around 10:30pm. They stopped by the hotel where Max had been held captive to move the soon to be dead man and woman before anything could happen to them. Then it was finally off to food, home for a nap, waking up for their o-four-dark-too-early meeting with John and his team to go over the plan. Such as it was. At least they were going out. Had things gone to plan, they'd be full of ice cream, naked in a hot tub about right now. At least _one_ of them remembered that experience from the last timeline. _Sadface_.

On the other hand, in the universe where Chloe would have remembered splishing with Max, she was dead. So…as much as she wished that she had those memories too, she couldn't be mad at Max about it. All she'd done was travel back in time to save Chloe's life. Perspective. But her mood was still off.

Chloe's eyes were wandering. She noted that the door to the elevator was a shiny sort of bronze, reflecting, distorting and colorizing them both while they waited. _Max is just too adorable_ she thought, catching her in reverse. In spite of the chill, they'd dressed her in an intimidating sleeveless pink t-shirt with white line-art of a 1950's style giant robot destroying a city on the front, grey high-waisted lace shorts, and grey high top converse sneakers. Her tattooed butterflies looked as though they were ready to leap from her arm at any moment, colors echoed in the streak in her bangs. They'd finished off her ensemble with a white hoodie tied around her waist, just in case.

The door dinged again. Chloe let out an 'argh', leaned back into the rear elevator wall as it stopped at the third floor. "Stupid fucking door." No people. Again. After another minute, the door opened to the correct floor, where they stepped out into the hall. She followed Max to the room.

If they were early enough, Max would talk her way into moving the couple. If they were too late, the Russian telepath probably knew they were outside already, and this would be a short conversation until Max rewound them out. _What would I experience if she did that?_ She'd be back in the car with Max on the way here, and Max would just disappear, right? That's how it worked from her perspective in the past anyway. No reason to unsnap the top of her leg holster for either path, but Chloe did it anyway, just to feel better.

The door opened before Max knocked. _Shit._ Max put her hand back behind her, touching Chloe's thigh with three fingers. A light nonverbal signal that it was okay. _Okay - awesome. Let's do our good deed and go eat._ The woman who answered the door was in her mid-twenties. Cute, features were French, maybe? Long hair tied up behind her head, light skin, pretty green eyes, and hints of red wine dye mixed with brown in her hair. Behind her, Chloe could see a Hispanic man in baggy black pants, chain and black button shirt, straight mid-length dark hair cut a little longer in the front than back, and a couple of facial piercings. Looked around the same age, maybe older. His eyes were dark behind the hair over his face, and it looked like he hadn't slept in days.

The woman studied Max, while the man aimed a guy head-nod at Chloe through the open door.

Max said "Hi. My name is Max, and this is…"

"Chloe… Hector, looks like _they_ found _us_. It's…okay. They're here to save our lives. Doesn't look like we make it through the night. Alexander. Dmitri and…Julia as well. We need to go now. I'm sorry - will you wait a moment for us?" she said to Max.

"Um. Sure?" The door closed, but didn't latch.

Max tapped Chloe to get her attention, gave her the 'I have no fucking idea' arms-up shrug and body spin, and leaned back against the hallway wall. A minute later the man and woman emerged from the room into the hallway with small travel suitcases, hastily filled, bulging, and not completely zipped.

"We should all take your car. There's a good buffet in the Bellagio. Lots of cameras, noise. We'll be safe." said the woman. She started walking down the hall toward the stairwell. Max shrugged, followed. Then Chloe, and finally _Hector I guess_?

 _This is so weird,_ thought Chloe. _I'm used to these kinds of interactions with Max by now, but to see this same sort of clipped 'I'm speaking nonsense but it's all correct because magic powers' from strangers was just freaky._ At least Chloe assumed this woman had some sort of gift. _See the future? Mind reader?_

They exited the building, and the woman made a straight line for their Range Rover. _Still could be either one. Or something else?_ _I should watch what I think. I wonder if Max thinks she's cute too?_ _Shit. Think about baseball? I don't know anything about baseball. Think about not knowing anything about baseball then!_ Chloe clicked her key fob to open the rear gate. They packed in the luggage, and got in the car. Max shotgun, the woman behind Max, and Hector behind Chloe.

Chloe started the car and drove out of the lot toward the strip.

The woman leaned forward between the front seats, "Sorry - I just wanted to get out of there. Max didn't know when they show up, so I just didn't want to be there any longer. Shit. Yeah. Sorry - I forget. I'm Sophie. This is _my_ faithful traveling companion and chauffeur, Hector. Thanks for coming to get us. You really did just save our lives. Weird, how this worked out…but thank you."

"Telepath." said Sophie. "Mostly. I'll explain later. And to answer your earlier question Chloe, yes. And she wondered the same of you." Sophie sat back.

Max looked back and forth. Then back and forth again. Face puzzled. Chloe could see Hector shrug to Max. Sympathetic gesture.

"Oh this is gonna be fun." Chloe said.

* * *

 **Max** was confused. She knew their names, but who the hell were they? What were they doing there in that room? And why did the Russians end up in the same place? Clearly not random then. Too many questions. It wasn't even 11pm yet, so they had plenty of time to get back tonight. But the was a weird wrinkle on a weird day. _Days. Whatever._

They were all seated in a wraparound booth at the end of a row in a cafe inside the Bellagio. Turns out the buffet closed at 10pm, so they improvised with another venue inside. Sophie and Hector were seated across from Chloe and Max.

They'd ordered and eaten about half their meal in awkward silence.

Chloe opened her mouth as if to ask a question, stopped.

Sophie laughed. It sounded like fresh sparkles and life.

Hector said "It can be like this at first" to no one in particular.

Sophie began. "So okay. This is going to work out a lot easier if I just talk. Just this once. Not that I'm so in love hearing myself through you all, but it will go easier. If the context is obvious to everyone, I'll simply answer the question. If it's not, I'll add context from the questions or thoughts into the shape of what I'm saying without repeating it exactly Q&A style. I know this will seem odd at first, but I promise you'll get used to it quickly. Is that okay?"

"Okay. Old ground, but I'm telepathic, with a few unique quirks. Hector here is living life on a 5 second tape delay. He's a 100% saturation precognitive. So he gets full sensory duplication from his future self. 5 seconds in the future. Yes. Everything he experiences, he experiences again for the first time five seconds later. 'Disorienting as fuck' is one way to describe it. He has other talents that work in conjunction with mine, but another time."

"Max, we had secondhand information that you could move through time somehow, but that was obviously very incomplete. Cute Chloe. I'm not sure I'd say you were the most mainstream one at the table for once, but I understand your perspective."

"Max, you have an amazing gift. It makes you very special. It also makes you extremely dangerous. To everyone. Which is dangerous for you both because you have no idea what you're doing yet. You've had a taste of this already. Well, you've both been very noisy, drawing way too much attention to yourselves. You were a week and a half into your gift when you showed up on _their_ grid. We don't know exactly how, but you're the time traveler. You could figure it out. Six weeks later and you're secret-not-secret billionaires, private security, flashy cars. It's like you're walking into a lion enclosure in meat suits, flashing a big light over your heads that says 'eat me'."

Chloe choked a little. Max hit her under the table. Sophie blushed involuntarily, soldiered on.

"We came here to find _you_ , give you a quick boot camp on what it takes to survive, a warning, and hopefully a new start. Obviously, one of our own had other plans for us. So thank you for that."

"You need to listen to all of this, think about what life has been like for both of you since discovering your powers. Ultimately, I'm going to try to convince you that you need to jump back Arcadia Bay and walk forward from there again. Yes, just after the storm is fine - and just disappear. Leave Chloe behind. Vanish. Go lead a quiet ordinary life somewhere."

"No." Chloe and Max said it out loud at the exact same time.

"Sorry. Sorry. That was probably my fault. Feedback." said Sophie. "Quirks. Look, you guys don't know the lay of the land yet. Please - just let me finish. I do understand your reaction. I see what you are to each other. And sadly, I know I'm almost certain to fail tonight because of that. I feel what you feel. But I have to try, for both of your sakes, for ours, maybe for everyone's."

"I haven't met John Michaels. But they have a lot of agents. Most of the ones I've read are okay people, doing a job they think is necessary, in a way they feel is just. Most are not aware of what's really happening, so they too are innocents in a way. Along with the lower level talents. But they wouldn't hesitate to kill us on sight if they knew what we were. Remember that Max. Doesn't mean they can't hurt you. But you're right. They're the ones who do, not the ones who think. Nor are they the ones who _know_. But that's a different conversation."

"The reason is simple. You two spent half your night talking about the very things that have us concerned about you. And Chloe already said it - she's your kryptonite. You guys are smart enough to be worried about the same things we are. I'm just telling you you're not anywhere near scared enough. You think you can outsmart _them_ , outloop _them_. But the things _they_ do to people. The talents working for _them_ aren't volunteers for the most part. They're discovered, given an ultimatum. Family, friends, loved ones are usually hanging in the balance. No, the ones _they_ 've found aren't all of us. No, it's okay. I'm camouflaging on all of our conversations. _Their_ telepaths won't see that these memories even exist in the future. But thanks for being cautious with our secrets."

"There are hundreds more of us. That we know of. Scattered. Isolated. No we don't have Facebook groups, or instaface streams. Yes, that's a much larger number than _they_ 've ever recruited. And a far more diverse set of gifts, with majors and minors in combinations as well. And even a rare few that create completely new symbiotic powers shared between people. It's not a blessing for everyone. But we're scattered. _They_ mostly have no idea how numerous we are. Because we follow our own rules. Stay invisible. Stay silent. Stay away. Just live quietly."

"Mostly the careless ones get caught. Or the ones we don't sense in time to warn. Yeah, probably a much much larger number no one knows about - who aren't even aware they have gifts. But there is no census. No one knows what the real numbers or distributions or anything are. That would be a genocide list as far as we care. Only the moderately social or moderately active ones are even aware of each other. They have to be very cautious. We only know who we know. There could very well be other groups larger than ours existing in isolation from us, each other."

"We try not to stay in touch mostly. If one is discovered, _they_ can rip information out of their minds about others they know of, so friendships are dangerous. Or _they_ rip the flesh off their children. Which sucks, yes. Dick move is correct. Worse things have happened over the centuries though. There are a few people who act as hubs in different ways for those who want to keep in loose touch, or stay up on information. News about anything important that happens, a vague sense of disconnected community. People who either can't be broken because of their gifts and lack of personal connections, or who's gifts are unique or essential for some other reason, and who have companions near who can ensure they're not a threat to their connections if compromised. Yes, that means what it sounds like. Everything we do is strictly volunteer."

"I'm telling you this so you understand the way things are. We're hunted, haunted, and if discovered, we're forced to work for _them_ against everyone else. The stubborn or principled are given death, but usually not until after loved ones are tortured or killed in _their_ coercion attempts. Everywhere in the world. _They_ is euphemism for the ones who run all the various shows. People of power, influence, sitting at the top of networks, or behind the kings and queens. Every country has _them_. Little kings and kingmakers, magnates, oligarchs, politicians and shadows. No no one specifically identified. I mean, you can look at it and figure out who the people pulling strings are - and it's not gardeners or street food vendors."

"Yeah this is where it gets complicated. Half the countries in the world will have people coming after you by now. You're new and different Max. And what you are is terrifying in bad hands. Everyone has spies everywhere, so information travels surprisingly fast. This is why the jump all the way back is probably the best option for you both. Reset everyone's awareness of you. Yes, you could come up again. I don't know. It's the best we have."

"No - I know you're not a threat of your own free will. Kryptonite, remember. That's how _they_ do it. But with your talents, it's not just about giving one nation or group a tactical and strategic advantage against the others. It's giving them one against all people. All life. Every move you make affects the whole of reality. Realities. You've seen that. You're getting more powerful. Discovering new ways to use your powers. And you're utterly, laughably vulnerable. Like a baby guarding a bar of gold from pirates. Imagine that power in the hands of the worst people humanity has produced? Or the most average. Equally terrifying."

"I know you _think_ that she's a strength, that you cover each other. And so far, that's maybe been true. Maybe your plan could work. I don't know. But I promise you that using the Americans for cover while you become a different more powerful form of _them_ isn't going to make _anyone_ comfortable Max. That objectively sounds like a nightmare in the making to all of us."

"I know your best intentions, your sincerity, and your innocence - for right now. You've changed a lot in the past month. How will you change in the next year? Ten? I see what you remember of the future. I don't understand it, and have no idea what to do about it. It's all brand new information to me, but we'll all be dead by then anyway. Everyone is focused on now. We're as shortsighted as anyone. And I'm not saying it's guaranteed to go bad. I'm not a precog. It's a noble mission Max. I'm just telling you how it all looks to people who worry about such things."

"What you have is a people problem on multiple fronts right now. They were worried when no one knew a fraction of what I know about you now. So yes. I'd say that greater understanding is only going to increase fear and make things a lot worse for you. I suppose you could jump back and erase this conversation. But it won't change anything in the medium term. You still are what you are, and you're both behaving as you're behaving. Without a hard reverse and course correction, there will be conflicts. Yes, I'm underplaying that by an order of magnitude."

"You're just an 18-year-old girl Max. I'm sorry Chloe - I don't mean that to sound the way you hear it, but this is about perception. And she is young, inexperienced, and from the outside, you guys are showing all kinds of bad judgement. Yes - as judged by a strata of persecuted people who are trying to remain completely invisible. Accepted. I know - you didn't know a lot of this before today. Not saying anyone is right. Just how everything looks."

"You saved our lives tonight. We're trying to give you a way to save yours. Opinions on you are split three ways among the unaffiliated. My word for us, we don't have any collective identity or name really."

"About a third want you killed outright, immediately and at all costs - their rationale is that you're like a nuclear bomb in a field of daisies. With the unaffiliated talents being the daisies, yes. Normal people too. Status quo. Their loved ones. The world. Everything. And _any_ chance that someone could make you blow up should be taken as a certainty that you will. The cost of misplaced faith is too high. They're the ones who alerted the Russians to your presence. Probably alerted the Russians that we were there trying to meet you too. Yeah, we disagree among ourselves too. We're just people. Never this openly before, but this is a passion point for everyone, so I'm not too surprised."

"No - they know the Americans are watching you. They were hoping to start a war - a crossfire with the Russians with you in the center. Three birds. One stone. Yes, they're idiots, and no. They didn't know that you can't be easily killed. I'm not saying talents are any smarter or any wiser than any of the other untalented idiots out there in the world. They all live their lives in fear of something."

"They're afraid that you could come back from the future at any time to deliver a list of every talent ever discovered. And that's not the worst of it. I don't know that, but there's a large group who thinks it could happen. Even the moderates fear the same. I'm just telling you what's what. You'll have to decide what battles you want to fight. You teaming up with the Americans is not going to make anyone out there more comfortable though. Those are the wrong hands too. No one has confidence you can manage it. Age, inexperience, _her_. _Them_."

"There are no viable alternatives to the Americans. This isn't a prison yard. It doesn't work like that. The moment you pick a side, any side, you choose to be _against_ all others who remain. You shouldn't count on any unaffiliated standing with you. Well, not sane ones anyway. Don't stand up. Run. We survive by hiding. That's it. That's our life. And we all have a better chance of survival if you run. Or die. Yes, that too. We've only exposed ourselves to you at all because of the threat we feel you present if you go bad or are made to, and we're hoping you'll see it too. And compassion from some of us to give you a chance to do this on your own."

"Right. So the second third, more moderate, see you in roughly the same way as the first, like I said. You're a bomb. Where they differ is what should be done about you. Most in this group think you should be given the chance to withdraw. Disappear. Yes, as I said, that's why Hector and I are here. We're messengers for them I guess. I've seen inside your head. I see all sides. That's the problem with being a telepath and an empath and a conduit - I try not to take a personal stance on contentious issues because I never know what thoughts or opinions are truly mine anymore."

"Yeah, the third group - they're thinking crazy. Dangerous to all of us. Mentioned a second ago. They see you as sort of messiah. It's not funny Chloe. They're weirdly serious. In a not balanced sort of way. No, not messiah as in a religious manner. They see you like you were a comic book hero. A liberator. Someone to put faith in. To follow. They believe that you're the first talent in memory powerful enough and weird enough to take all of _them_ on. It gives them drunken courage to think they could stand with you. Freeing the indentured talents, removing the swords hanging over the rest. Bring balance to the force, blah blah. They're delusional. That's like fighting the fucking ocean. It doesn't care, and you only hurt yourself."

"So that's the For Dummies version. Obviously tons of nuance and gradation we're missing out on in our hour together. Look, for what it's worth, I like you guys. I think you mean well. But I'm telling you that doesn't matter to anyone. Right now, some percentage are willing to give you one warning. Go back. Vanish. But if you pass on that, they're going to merge in numbers with the ones who want you dead. It's blind fear. Reasonable fear. Pragmatism. Everyone has their reasons."

"I'm begging you Max. You too Chloe. Consider this seriously. Talking to them won't help. That's what they've said. It is an ultimatum, even though I know how that will hit you two. They've been listening to our conversation - I'm sorry. I didn't lie. Quirks, remember? I'm a conduit as well. I can link to multiple minds, once I've touched them, regardless of distance, and connect them to me, each other. I'm one of the hubs I spoke of earlier. I'm sorry. But this is my job, and you need to hear this truth. They know you can't be easily killed now. This is making them very afraid. See it from their side. If you don't jump back and fall off the grid, leave her behind, they'll take the only steps they can to protect themselves. She's your biggest vulnerability. Without her, maybe _they_ will have less leverage over you."

* * *

 **Max** needed to think without anyone eavesdropping. So before she could even formulate that thought, she froze reality around her. This was so easy now. She was progressing. Advancing. But it still didn't solve her problems in the immediate.

In some ways, Max was taken aback by this new information, new revelations. In other ways, it hardly mattered to her. She had to remind herself that she didn't have confirmation that powered people were real at all until tomorrow in a prior timeline, never-mind how many or that they were working for alliances of government and business interests - that she also didn't know existed until another moment in that same future.

So tonight's revelation that there were more powered people not working for organized bodies didn't seem that peculiar. Their numbers were still trivial in the big picture sense. And she didn't blame them for being afraid.

 _But I didn't ask for any of this. And I won't be used for anyone's agenda. And mine is simple - get Chloe to the future. Reduce or eliminate as much suffering as possible along the way. So why all this resistance, so early? These people should all be helping us. They all should. And why is everyone threatening, directly or implicitly, to harm Chloe?_

 _There is no way I can get her to the future while leaving her behind. She'll start aging normally again, and won't last another 60 to 80 years? So as much as I'd be happy to disappear into anonymity, it's not an option without her. So that's a big fat nope. Suck it peeps._

 _All the real obstacles we face now are foreseeable. The sooner we all start dealing with that reality, the sooner we'll solve the problems. Fuck this is stupid._

 _One ultimatum delivered, in fear of another by others._

 _Insane._

 _Hi - I'm Max. I'm an 18-year-old photo-nerd from Oregon. Would you like to threaten my friend so I'll take over the world for you? Or just kill her so I won't? Fucking idiots. All of them. They're all really lucky I'm not the person they fear I might be. Cause one more of y'all motherfuckers threatens Chloe, and I'm gonna start bustin' some heads._

 _One thing at a time. We still have to get past tonight and tomorrow morning with John and his crew. Keep my parents' house safe. Remove the Russian threat. At least we saved these two. Even if they weren't as uninvolved as we thought. It's stupid, but I do actually like Sophie and Hector. They seem like they're in a tough spot. But nice people. I don't know how to make everyone not afraid._

 _One day at a time. How long did it take to navigate hell week? Mind readers really do complicate this though. Harder to make jumps back and play like they're the first time._

 _Gah. I really wish I could bring Chloe into these frozen moments. I'd love to get her thoughts right about now. Also, it's just kinda pretty in here. I feel too exposed with telepaths hanging around. Like we can't actually think what's on our minds until we clear out. But how do you not think about things you're trying to not think about. Or do you just keep thinking them, giving telepaths credit for being able to parse it all in stride?_

 _Ugh._

 _Okay - prolly should get back. But what do I do about their threat. I mean, 30% already want me - scratch that - Chloe dead. 30% more in the balance if I don't give in to their impossible demands. Which I can't do. So I should just accept now that 60% of a few hundred people want to murder my love and best friend so I won't join the dark side and eventually hurt them… Not like that wouldn't push me to seriously want to hurt them. Even though I can go back and get her again. If they ever found a way to make her death permanent, I probably would turn half this fucking planet to glass. After moving critters and stuff to the safe half. Right. So much stupid, these people._

 _I just got her back a couple of hours ago. Give me a night with her at least before you start with this shit?_

 _So what are we not doing Max?_

 _We're not disappearing. Fine, go bigger then. Go more public. Not that public, like with anything secret or meaningful about powers. But maybe go more public as people? Need to think about that. Might also solve some of the photo distribution mission if we're super fucking active on social media. Going out, being photographed, selfies, otheries? Wait. Those are just pictures. Whatever. It's going to be really hard for someone to move on us and keep everything out of the public eye if we're really really public is all. Do we really start a rock band, or find some other way to be semi-famous? Would it help? Chloe topic for later._

 _We're not ditching Chloe, so that's a no. Life model decoy? I wish. Two of her? Ha. I can barely contain one._

 _We're not giving in to other people's crazy ass demands. That goes for them, unaffiliated, anyone._

 _This is our fucking show. Maybe they need to start feeling that. Maybe we deserve a little respect._

 _Maybe we need to earn a little respect too? Fair point. We're still scrubs in this game._

 _Magical scrubs, but scrubs._

 _So do we stand up to them? Are we really ready? Or is that suicide?_

 _Or do we run away? Hard to stay hidden forever. Enemies on all sides._

 _Or do we rewrite the rules?_

 _Break the game?_

 _I don't know what that means, but I like that thing best._

 _What about the crazypants 30%? I mean, they already think I'm their superhero. That's kindof flattering. All I'd have to do to live up to their expectations would be solve the power and corruption problem that's plagued mankind from the beginning. Sure. No big deal. Eahh. Too many unknowns there. But having a small posse of powered people on our side might actually be helpful in a lot of directions. In the same way having friendlies with gunships proved helpful once before. I don't know. Too many known unknowns, and an unknown number of unknown unknowns._

 _Short term. End this conversation in a noncommittal sort of way._

 _Talk to Chloe about all of this._

 _Plan the takedown of the Russians with John and friends._

 _Takedown the Russians._

 _Waffles with Chloe?_

 _Or bacon?_

 _That's a pretty full to do list for the next day regardless of critical breakfast food decisions. Let's just push off on the rest if we can? One crisis at a time._

 _Unless…?_

 _Huh. Go 180 degrees the other way?_

 _Maybe that could work. What the hell. I can always rewind if it doesn't._

* * *

 **Max** restarted the world.

"Hey - guys. Let's go voice for a sec? So first, thank you Sophie. I understand this was a tough spot for you. I think you handled yourself well. I disagree with the fears that many have, and with the messianic assignments others feel. But I understand and respect that everyone has opinions about me. I'd like to have time to sort this all out with Chloe later and see how we'd like to proceed. Is that agreeable?"

"I understand Max. I'll let them know…It's okay - it's just us four now." Sophie looked a little tired. It was late. Hector put his hand on her shoulder for a second before withdrawing self-consciously.

"So Max, I'm guessing we should bail? Stuff to do, shit to discuss without listening devices, yeah?" Chloe said, with zero subtlety.

"I was thinking a different thing. Sophie, Hector - do you want to come stay with us tonight? You're out a room. A few unsavories looking for you… We have the upper few floors with a lot of empty space, so you guys could have your own suite, or a suite each or whatever. We already have our own armed security peeps working for us, so it should be pretty safe. We'll have a few folks from the US team showing up around 4, so you could attend with us, or stay background and listen in, or just sleep - up to you. We also have a game of 'capture the Russian team who killed both of you and Chloe'. Don't know if you have any interest in getting in on that action, but all things are possible. Open invite?"

Chloe looked suddenly slightly pale.

Hector looked sleepy. Or stoned.

Sophie was impossible to read.

Sophie and Hector shared a look, and with a concerned knit of her brow and a cute nose wrinkle she said 'Yeah. Actually. We'd like that."

* * *

 **Sophie** leaned into the plush leather back seat, tired, but alert. The walls of multicolored light passing outside the window blurred by in dazzling waves. But she was focused beyond the lights. She could feel Hector zoning out next to her. Moments like this, where his twin streams of awareness could blend together almost as one, were the only times he felt calm. Not at peace, but relaxed at least. Monotonous passage of unimportant sensory information, or relatively static moments, like a sunset over water, were good for him. Conversations, walking through crowds, driving, these things were hard to recover if he lost focus for even a moment. There was no differentiation between the first and second pass, so sometimes it took him a few seconds to know where to focus. His was one of the gifts that often took more than it gave. But his relaxation was bleeding over into her. She needed this too.

Sophie reminded herself that she'd need something with electrolytes later, but would be fine for a few hours yet. She'd only linked eight additional people to their conversation earlier, mostly in a broadcast capacity. That was easier for her than other alternatives. While her group of talents didn't have leaders, those eight were the closest they had to a directive or organizing body. She understood their point of view. As a telepath, it was often impossible not to.

But she wasn't worried about Max's intentions. At least not the one in front of her, here, now. To be fair, no one was worried about NowMax as a person. It was her future potential for harm. But Sophie couldn't judge on any of that. She could only work with what was in front of her. She'd never trusted or mistrusted anyone before. She just knew truth about them one way or the other. It was all right there for her to see. So she knew that Max was sincerely trying to navigate a way through all of this without hurting anyone. Without causing harm. Sophie hoped she could find a way to do that. Even if it wasn't how the world worked - at least not in her experience.

Max was smart though. It was an unexpected move to invite Sophie and Hector to stay with them. Sophie obviously knew what she was thinking, and Max knew that she'd know. Wasn't sure it would matter in the end to the others, but the approach was novel. Chloe didn't see it yet though. She was trying not to think about anything. Singing punk songs in her head while standing on a tall chair. That was one abstraction for 'louder' in her head. Went back to childhood. _She's so afraid I'll overhear._ _Sorry Chloe. It doesn't work like that either._ But the rift between Chloe and Max over this invitation was unnecessary. If Chloe understood what Max intended, she wouldn't be sulking. Silence wasn't the answer for them.

Any time she connected to other minds, Sophie was reminded how hard it was for them to live isolated in just one. Always striving for connections to others, to break down barriers, to join with loved ones on any sort of deep level. But never being quite able to get there. Doesn't mean these two had to flail right now though. She'd give them their gift later, when Chloe wasn't driving. But she could still help them mend on the way back. _Time to go to work._

Sophie leaned forward between the front seats. "Chloe, please - you should speak your mind. I already know, and I promise, nothing you say will offend me…us. There's no such thing as a thin-skinned telepath. It's also nearly impossible to be judgmental about what people think when you can see all of the linked constructs, experiences and everything that went into that thought at that moment. I might be one of the most sympathetic people you'll ever meet. But you two need to share before we get back. Your heads should be clear for what's next." She leaned back, turning her head to stare out the side window. Lights could be so pretty when seen from a hundred directions, through the eyes of passing crowds.

* * *

 **Chloe** was super fucking irritated. At Sophie. At Max. Hector hadn't done anything to deserve it, but she was a little irritated at him for simply being there. _Fine. You want me to share? I'll share, you stupid mind vampire._

"What the fuck Max? Why are we bringing them home with us?"

"Hey. Don't be an asshole, Chloe. They haven't done anything but try to help us. If you're mad, be mad at me."

"I am. And I don't want someone lurking around in my brain. It's mine. Private. It's got bone all the way around it for a reason. This is an invasion, and it's rude. We already have enough problems with the electronic surveillance. Now we can't even be alone in our own fucking heads? And how can we _possibly_ have a private conversation about what we want to do about them, when there's an obvious spy, possibly broadcasting our thoughts to the people threatening us, sitting right next to us? "

"I'm sorry Chloe. There wasn't a way to discuss this with you beforehand. She is a telepath, so she knew what I was thinking the moment I thought it myself. The usual niceties and protocols kindof go out the window, yeah? This is all new, so I'm sorry if I don't know how to handle it yet."

"I don't like this." Chloe decided she'd just speak her mind, since there apparently wasn't a filter between her and Sophie anyway. She wanted Max to understand how pissed she was. And she couldn't understand why Max wanted them to tag along in the first place. _Did they do something to her? Did they make her bring them along?_

"I'm sorry. We were all about to leave, and I didn't have a way to discuss with you first. Unique circumstances."

"Why then? How does this help us _at all_?" Chloe was gripping the wheel tight enough for the blood to go out of her knuckles.

"They're worried about us Chloe. All of the talented. Feeling desperate, threatened, afraid. Some of them tipped off the Russians, who've already killed you once. Now they're threatening to keep trying to kill you. Nothing bad will happen - you know I wouldn't let it. But I don't think we want a war with everyone either. Do we?" Max pivoted in her seat a bit to face Chloe.

"Haven't they already declared war on us though?"

"Some people are scared. But that's no reason to lump them or lash out at them all. They also know that we're having to deal with the Russians again, this time with organized help from John and his team. Already in motion. But it's a one-off. I don't…we don't want to be against anyone, and we don't want to join anyone either."

"But…"

"No Chloe. Please. Let me finish. This temporary alliance is another huge worry for them. And it's not unreasonable. So I figured let's take the discomfort ourselves and go full transparency on this one. If they're worried, let Sophie be an observer. She can see everything, maybe having her on the inside will calm things down with them. Reassure them in some way that the interactions are only what they are, and not part of something else. De-escalate the situation hopefully. At least for the moment."

"Okay. Maybe that's not a totally brain-dead stupid plan. But how long?"

"I don't know. As long as we think it's necessary. I had to make the call quickly, but I know this isn't my decision alone. I think we want to be Switzerland, right? Don't we? We have our own mission that doesn't really account for any of these warring factions. Unless one or more of them is responsible for the coming shitstorms, anyway. I don't know Chloe. I don't like the total loss of intimate privacy either, but I also don't have anything important to hide from them. And hopefully Sophie will respect the difference between our own private thoughts and things that might be a threat. We're already under full electronic surveillance. From John's people and the government, and voluntarily from our own photo safety net. Sophie is just one more observer. One more check and balance and maybe early warning system. They might even be able to help us. I don't know."

"I still wish you'd talked to me first. Electronic surveillance is one thing. It's outside. But this is someone poking around in my goddamn mind. If we're a team, I should get a vote here."

"I don't disagree. We only left a few minutes ago, and we're talking now. If your vote is to let them off on the side of the road, then let's talk about that too. I'm not trying to dictate Chloe. There was just a window of time, and I didn't want to lose it. I wasn't trying to cut you out." Max turned to face forward again.

"So if my vote was to force them out right now, you'd go along?"

"We're each a half of this team, right? So it's a stalemate if we're both super rigid or dogmatic about it. I think we'd have to each make the case for why one direction over another, and we both come around, with an open mind, to what we want to do. Same side. Same team. We decide together."

 _Shit._ "Max, why do you always have to be so fucking reasonable? Why can't just be a pig-headed absolutist once in a while? God I hate fighting with you. You're like an argument ninja, and I end up feeling like the asshole."

"I can be pig headed about some things. But so far we've never disagreed on any of those. Look Chloe, I know. And I'm sorry. But I think it's better if they're here than if they're shut out. It goes back to our mission, to everything, you know? It's not about tearing things down. It's about finding what's good and knitting them together, so we're all stronger. It's the only way we get through this and out the other side. We were never going to do this just on our own. We _need_ help. Hopefully from people who want the same kinds of things. Sometimes that might be John and his organizations. Sometimes Sophie's friends. And I don't see us in philosophical conflict with any of Sophie's group either. Not really. They just want to live their lives, protect their families and loved ones. And the people who do want something different - maybe we all benefit if that's out in the open too."

"Okay. I get it. And I get why. Dammit. I still don't like it…but you're probably right. I still don't want her in my fucking head though."

"And I'm sorry for not finding a way to discuss this with you before making the invitation. I just didn't know how to do that Chloe. Maybe I should have stopped and talked with you anyway, even though I knew she'd know. Sorry Chlo."

"It's…okay Max. It's okay. Let's just get through the next day and see where everything sits?"

Chloe placed her palm on Max's shoulder for a moment. A little rub before returning attention to the wheel.

Sophie poked her head forward again. "Chloe, if it will help give you any comfort, I can probably teach you guys to at least recognize the signs when you're being actively examined? It's better than not knowing perhaps?"

Chloe still didn't entirely trust Sophie, but Max was right. She didn't seem like she was trying to harm them. If there was a way to know, it would be a good skill to have. "Yeah. Maybe. Whatever." She could see Sophie smile at that in the rear view mirror. Chloe knew she saw right through her. _Not you too. Fucking outnumbered._

* * *

 **Michaels** walked a few feet behind one of the girls' security contractors. Behind him trailed another dozen of his men with duffels full of gear, along with Miss Margaret, followed by a posse of contractors bringing up the rear. He wasn't sure how that first interaction would go, but these guys were all ex-military as well, and had clearly received instructions to simply escort them up. No attempts at taking weapons or any of the usual protocols. No attitudes either. The usual respectful treatment among professionals. That was a good sign that there was some trust built between them in whatever future Max had come from. He relaxed a bit.

They were escorted in to a large suite off the stairwell. Bedroom doors appeared to be closed. He noticed stains on the wall and floor near the foyer, as though something had spilled and been hastily cleaned. He noticed an open notebook, at least 10 cameras between the hallway and the suite. _Not sure if they're paranoid, or just the right amount of worried. Have to make sure we do a remote wipe of that later. Not anxious to have a record of this with all of our faces._

Max & Chloe were already seated in a large living room, backs to him. He obviously recognized them, but this is the first time he'd met them in person. At least this him? On another sofa across from them sat a young man and woman. He looked a bit intentionally emo-scruffy, where she played more Euro coffee house. His guys dropped their black gear duffels in a line along one wall, names out. After scanning the space, they all casually gravitated toward the coffee, fruit and pastries that had been set out back by the front door.

Miss Margaret came up beside him, motioned to the two he didn't know and whispered "Unregistered talents - she's a telepath, no idea what he is."

Michaels drew his sidearm to a low ready in their direction. Several of his men saw him, and did the same, coming up behind him on either side.

"Gun!" said one of the contractors into his radio, raising his M4, trying to flank. A hallway door off the living room opened, and three additional contractors rushed in, weapons aimed at Michaels' and his men. Seeing the new threats from the side and rear, several of Michaels' men drew down in the direction of each cluster of contractors. Additional contractors piled in from the front door, covering the rear.

"And this is why we can't have nice things." said Chloe.

Max disappeared from her seat. Reappeared between Michaels' weapon and the man and woman on the sofa. Max said in a firm but calm tone, "I'm disappointed in you John. You're a guest here. They're also my guests. Please be more respectful."

"Those are unregistered talents." said Miss Margaret, simply stating the fact.

"They're registered with me." said Max.

Michaels looked at Miss Margaret, looking for any sign of what she was seeing in Max's head, or anyone else's. _Do we stand down, or fight?_

She addressed Michaels. "I can't read any of them. I can see that it's coming from that girl, but she's masking all of their thoughts from me. I can't advise you on this."

Max walked into Michael's gun. He reflexively pulled it away from her. "John. Please. They're with me. I've vetted them. They're not a threat to any of you. You may not like that they're here, but they're my friends. And they are here to help." Max motioned to her contractors to lower their weapons. "I need them John."

 _Can their telepath read us?_ he thought to Margaret.

"She can, but she isn't. I'm not sure why not." she replied verbally.

Max spoke to the room. "Tell you what. Everyone, please put your weapons down. Then we sit and chat. We've only got a little over four hours until Alexander drops in. Margaret - please don't try to read any of us. Sophie will know, then alert us, and I'll have to travel backward and ask that you not attend. I'd prefer if you could stay though - to ensure to your satisfaction that Sophie doesn't read John or any of your team. John - is that acceptable? We really need to get going here."

"So all of us, and a telepath on each side to enforce privacy?" John asked.

"Something like that. Original idea was to block the Russian telepath from scanning us. There's no threat to you or your team. But for obvious reasons, I'd rather that you all not leave with any information about their identities. That's all it is. And given her talent, I assumed that allowing some check against probes to your side would be respectful. I could have asked you to leave Margaret back in LA, and you would never have known we had a telepath on our team. Not looking for advantage here John."

 _Okay Margaret. Let's do this her way for now. Samuel isn't going to like it, but I don't see a choice. If you detect anything passive, great. But don't push. And obviously, let us know if they start scanning us?_

"Sure John. Your call." she said aloud.

Michaels holstered his weapon. His guys followed his lead.

Max vanished. They could hear her scream somewhere above them on the roof.

* * *

 **Chloe** wasn't even close to being first one up the stairs, but she plowed through all of them to get to her side. Max was wearing different clothes. Morning PJs. And bleeding from a large wound below her left knee. Looked like half the width of her leg was missing - a hole the size of half a softball. One of Michaels' men pulled a tourniquet from his belt pack and tied it off above the wound. Max screamed. It looked bad.

"Jesus Max? Are you okay?" _that's a really fucking stupid question._

"Shit. Looks like she got hit with a .50." said one of the contractors. There were around thirty armed men on the roof with them between Michaels' men and their own. Most were scanning outward to the distance with weapons. Two were playing the role of medic.

Max was in tears from the pain, but managed to get out "It was…an ambush. Rewound back…" Sophie and Hector dropped down beside Max. Sophie put her hand on the back of Hector's neck. He placed his hand on Max's forehead.

Sophie looked at Chloe, wincing, "it should help her with the pain."

The contractor medic was applying pressure directly with a clotting sponge, while Michaels' guy popped open a syringe pack. _Oh fuck! No!_ Chloe grabbed and held his arm back with all her body weight as he was about to give Max the injection of morphine. "You can't. She'll be stuck here." He looked at Michaels. "Don't look at him. Look at me. No pain meds. I'm sorry Max - but you know…"

"I know Chloe. It's why I came back here as far as I did. I need…"

Chloe was already on her phone, pawing through the most recent safety camera images. "One from twenty minutes ago. Right before we got the call that they were coming up."

"Show me." gritted Max. Her face was almost completely white, and she looked as though she'd pass out any second.

* * *

 **Max** landed in her body, walking from the fruit plate to the sofa. She dropped to her knees, rolled over, head in her hands for a second. Then instinctively felt her leg where the wound had been. _Motherfucker. Let's not ever do that again. Worst. Day. Ever._

Chloe ran over, Sophie and Hector right behind.

"Oh shit." Said Sophie.

Max looked up at her. "Yeah, that was fucked. We need a plan B." Tears were falling down Max's face from the memories of the pain. She was still shaking.

Chloe was on the floor next to Max, checking her over quickly. "What's up Max - are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm okay now Chloe. But something changed. They knew. Alexander never teleported over. His friend, Dmitri? - shot me in the leg with a sniper rifle though. That fucking sucked. Had to rewind about five hours back with the wound bleeding so I could get to you guys and a photo for a jump back to now to get rid of it."

"Ouch." said Sophie. Max knew that she knew everything Max knew about the last loop now.

"Thanks for helping me." Max said, to Chloe as well as Sophie and Hector. "Sophie - I was thinking maybe we do something different ourselves this time. If you're able. We're going to need a new plan - fast. You and I have all of the information in our minds now, but neither of us has real tactical training of any sort to recognize clues or figure out how to counter what happened. Is it possible?"

"Yeah. Easy with everyone in the same room. It's a many to many flow of information, but self-directed. So you choose what to expose or share with any of the others. Don't worry - it's more like walking together in a VR space you all draw, and a lot less like making everyone a telepath, if you know what I mean?" offered Sophie. "No secrets shared or probing in any direction."

"Okay. Hopefully some combination of Michaels' and his guys and our guys will be okay with it. If we can all be in the same space, show them everything that happens, maybe they'll see what we can't, and help generate a viable plan" said Max. "Is having Margaret here a problem for you or any of your friends?"

"No. It will be fine. Telepaths are opaque to each other's probing by default. But I shouldn't have any trouble communicating with her. I can also mask information about us from your minds. She'll see the gaps, but we can just tell her what it is again. She won't like it, but she'll understand."

"Okay. We should also pre-empt the standoff this time too. Too much testosterone and drama. Is there a way you can show her everything that happened, without risking other information about you and Hector that might compromise your safety?" asked Max.

"Yes, of course."

"Then as soon as she hits the floor, introduce yourself, share what you know about what happens, work out a mutual team privacy deal, and maybe we can just jump ahead to sorting out what the fuck to do about all of this?"

"Sure Max." said Sophie. "I think it will be fine. I think she was just surprised last time."

One of the contractors popped his head into the door. "Ms. Caulfield - Michaels and his team just pulled up to the entrance."

"Thanks." said Chloe. "Just escort them up when they're collected? Max, I'm confused on the exact facts, but I get it. Moving fast. Anything you need."

"Thanks Chloe. You'll see it all soon enough in the head arena. But if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I could use a good quiet minute of cuddle in our room before everyone gets here if that's okay?"

Chloe was up, helping Max to her feet, took her hand, and lead her silently to their room, closing the door.

It took Max a few steps to feel confident that her leg would support her weight again. Chloe climbed onto the bed, pulling Max after her, and without a word, they formed a big-spoon-little-spoon Voltron while Max came down from the residual effects of the pain of having her leg nearly blown off.


	14. Mousetrap

**Max** reached into her front pocket, took out her phone, and snapped a quick selfie with Chloe. Just to have somewhere warm, safe and quiet to come back to if she needed a jump any time soon. The shakes had mostly stopped by now. She still had a little phantom pain in her leg, but it was fading. She felt Chloe rising and falling behind her with each breath. A rhythm she focused on to still her own breathing.

"What can I do?" asked Chloe quietly.

"You're doing it." Max snuggled.

Chloe kissed her neck, combed Max's hair backward, tucking it behind her ear with her fingers.

A quiet moment. This was exactly what she hoped it would be. Again.

After a few minutes, Chloe asked "How did you get hit Max? Why didn't your emergency rewind thing kick in?" Her voice was concerned, but still soft and in the moment.

Max replied with well-practiced lines, "I think if it had been aimed at my head or heart, or a major artery, it probably would have. This was excruciatingly, unbelievably painful. Would have been permanently crippling to anyone normal, but wasn't immediately fatal. We know I can get hurt. Remember Seattle? Needles?"

"Yeah…"

"I'm sure the wound would have healed within a couple of days if I'd eaten enough mass, enough of the right minerals and nutrients. Jumping back was a faster, better option than healing forward, given the choice. Not getting shot is my preferred version from now on."

"It's too bad you can't hack that death-rewind mechanism to keep you from getting hurt at all. I'm really glad I don't have any of those 'getting shot' memories rolling around in my head to deal with."

"Maybe someday. I don't even know how it works the way it does right now. Might suck if it was too sensitive though. Stop time every time I get a scratch… But yeah, that shooty douche - when he killed you in the last timeline, he was a very precise. I don't think you even knew. And I don't think he suddenly missed with me. They must still be trying to figure out a way to take me alive."

"What did Sophie say his name was? Dmitri?"

"Yep. I've put him in my 'do not like' column. First you, then me. I'll be honest, I'm not sure what his survival odds are gonna be this pass."

Max heard footsteps of a crowd moving through the main hallway, duffels bumping and scraping along walls. _So soon?_ The sounds moved through the front door to the suite. " _Mmmmph"_ said Max, stretching a little.

"You could always rewind if you want more time Max. I don't mind. Happy to stay like this just about forever." Chloe held her a little tighter.

Max smiled. "That's what you said the last seven times. But I really should get up now or I'll fall asleep."

"You could, you know. How long have you been up? For reals?"

"Well, we had about four hours of sleep after getting out of the hot tub. Then I was drugged and unconscious for a couple of hours - does that count?"

"No. Not even slightly."

"Hmmm. Then let's see…from the time I woke up that morning until now… fourteen hours in the other timeline, plus let's see, six hours, then another six, then a rewind and jump to here, plus a fast forward of twelve hours for my body to burn out the drugs… That's not bad. I've only been up for…a little over twenty-six hours? Or thirty-eight, depending on what time stream you're counting."

"On four hours of sleep, after a full day of desert snap practice, getting drugged, shot, blowing up buildings? Never-mind the emotional trauma you've been through? Nope. That's fucking crazy Max. You're putting yourself and everyone else at risk. You're going to get a full eight hours of sleep. Maybe nine. Then you'll jump right back here to that picture when you wake up."

"But everybody is already…"

"I'll be right back. I'm gonna step out and explain to everyone what's happening this go-round. They can take guard shifts while you sleep. Or leave. Whatever. Fuck, I don't care. It doesn't really matter. As long as there's no frontal assault while you sleep, it should be fine. You'll reset everything anyway and they'll never even know. Well, Sophie will. And you'll tell me. But…you know what I mean."

"Chloe - we don't even know if it really works that way. When I jump back, I jump back into my body as it was. And this body in this timeline has been awake for nineteen hours maybe?"

"Uh huh. Max - are you tired at all right now?"

"Yeah - I'm exhausted, but…"

"That's what I thought. We're done. Clothes off. Into bed. I'll be right back."

Chloe got up, stepped out of the room. Max heard voices, then rising voices as she kicked off her shoes and clothing. The tones eventually settled. Chloe came back in, quietly closed and locked the door.

"Are they upset with me?" asked Max.

"It doesn't matter. You need sleep. They're moving more drones into place, setting up a hard scan perimeter, and everyone from here to LA is hunkering down for guard duty for a loop. We're good." Chloe undressed, killed the lights, crawled into bed and curled up behind her."

 _Maybe I do need this. Just a nap if nothing else._ The cool pillow felt like happiness and love under her head. She reached back, pulled Chloe's arm over the top so their hands were clasped together over Max's heart. "Thanks."

"I'm a good sidekick."

"You're the _best_ sidekick."

"I'll be right here Max."

"G'night Chloe."

* * *

 **Max** woke up. It was light outside. A quick glance at her phone told her it was around noon. _Wow. I must have been tired._ She looked around, but no Chloe. But something weird, scratchy, catching on her hair? _What the?_ She reached up to her forehead and pulled off a sticky note. Flipped it around. Chloe's writing. _Of course._

"Dorkface, Don't jump back yet. We have a plan. Come get breakfast when you're ready. -C"

Max emerged from the room a half hour later, freshly showered and dressed. She didn't know why exactly. The benefits of all that fuss would be gone the moment she jumped back. But some rituals were as much mental. Symbolic. _Fresh start. Speaking of…_

Chloe was on the sofa facing the other way. Without turning around, she pointed to the sideboard in the dining area behind her. "Bacon. Coffee."

"Nom." Max grabbed a plate at one end of the breakfast spread, took a few slices of bacon, some fresh cut fruit, a Belgian waffle, and loaded up the waffle with whipped cream and strawberries. Grabbed a cup of coffee as well. She walked out to the living room, set everything down on the large stone coffee table between the sofas, and dropped in next to Chloe. Hector and Sophie were both on the other side of Chloe, and Margaret and John were sitting across in the other sofa.

Chloe stole a piece of bacon with a side-smile, hand on Max's shoulder. "Morning sunshine."

Max took Chloe's hand, gave it a squeeze as she looked around at everyone. "Morning. Hi Sophie. Hey Hector. Sorry to make you guys wait. Hey John. Margaret. Everybody fed and stuff?" Max cut into her waffle.

"Hi Max. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but that's not really right either is it?" said John.

Max laughed. "Nope. But it's good to see you again John. Fewer explosions this time I hope."

"At least one fewer. An…affiliate organization picked up two Russian gentlemen headed onto your parents' property this morning. Small thermite charge, mobile phone trigger. Looks like they were going for a gas line. Everything's fine. Your mom and dad never knew anyone was there."

"You rule. Please thank everyone involved for me John. Sam too. For reals. I really appreciate it."

"Of course. Happy to help. Easy win all around."

"Three down, three to go. No sign of Alexander or anyone while I slept?"

Chloe answered. "Crickets."

"What are the odds that changes the second I walk up onto that roof?" stuffing waffle into her face.

"We'll get to that. But we haven't seen anything yet. If they're out there, they're hidden well." said John.

"Someone left a _note_ about a plan?" She cast a glare at Chloe, who looked away innocently, still munching on stolen bacon.

Sophie picked up the thread. "While you slept, we made use of the time, your memories and our experts to construct a working space of the roof outward. John, Margaret and a few others participated inside. We don't know exactly where anyone is, but we've narrowed possible locations for Dmitri - the sniper - to one of these six buildings." She pointed out through the window. "You didn't see a muzzle flash or anything, so we went by angle of injury and binaural timing differences in the sound of the shot."

John added "Our assumption is that Alexander is watching from another location. Somewhere that would allow him to look out and see the rooftop, pop in and grab you once you were down. Obviously he didn't get there before you backed out last time. There are only about five buildings he could be in with a great view of the rooftop, maybe six others with binoculars."

"So our guys could be in any two of seventeen buildings? In any number of rooms?"

"Any rooms above the roofline of this hotel, so that does narrow it some. Assuming they haven't moved in the past few hours."

"And our friendly Russian telepath - Julia, right? Mystery still?"

Chloe answered, "Yeah, but Margaret and Sophie think they might be able to work together with Hector to triangulate her position. Pulse out an active mental ping at her, look for a hole where nothing appears to be. Or…something?"

"That's helpful. So you two are working together okay?" Max asked Sophie and Margaret.

Max hoped this wasn't a loaded question. She understood why Sophie was reluctant to trust John and Margaret; especially since she wasn't allowed to scan them. They represented the kind of quasi-governmental organization that had forcibly recruited talents internationally across modern history.

Max was less clear on why John drew his weapon in the prior timeline when Margaret told him what they were. Max assumed at the time that it was because he was looking out for her and Chloe, thinking maybe they were plants by the Russians, or that Max didn't know they were talents. He never aimed his weapon at Hector or Sophie directly, and he stood down once he understood they were with Max, and confirmed that she knew what they were. The rest of that timeline went smoothly until she was shot on the roof later that morning. So there was that. But now that she was better rested, it was a nagging question. _Why did he react that way?_

Sophie knew that Max had a sense for the history between talents and _them_. John and Margaret didn't yet. Chloe and Max had their suspicions about the end-goals of those above his organization; the kind of thing they might eventually want from Max. But she hoped John wasn't involved in any of the sorts of abuses Sophie described. Seemed unlikely since there were only a handful of talents operating in any given country, but still. She wanted to believe there was a way to work alongside John and his group from time to time where it benefitted them both. She also liked him, and didn't want to be disappointed. _Again._

Margaret responded, breaking Max's accelerated thoughts. "We're fine dear. We're both telepaths, so any misunderstandings tend to work themselves out quickly. Our gifts operate very differently. It's been interesting to see the breadth of her skills. She and Hector were unknowns, so we were naturally a little concerned. But any misunderstandings we may have had were set aside as soon as she showed us your memories of the events of prior timelines. We all want the same thing. Privacy is ensured all around, and all of our thoughts are being masked from Julia on their side."

"Cool." Max figured it was best to drop it and move on for now. "So we don't know where anyone is yet. Guess my memories weren't all that helpful after all? Sorry."

"Doesn't mean we don't have a plan, Max." said John.

Chloe stole a chunk of pineapple from Max's plate, popped it into her mouth. "I'm on record as really super-hating parts of this plan by the way. Just so you know."

"Tell me."

"Not it." said Chloe quickly, leaning back.

John took this one. "This can go one of two ways, depending. Obviously you have to be confident about it too. If everything works perfectly, you may not need to jump back at all. But if something does go south, the fallback is to meet us at 4am, hopefully with knowledge of where Dmitri and Alexander are. And maybe Julia if we can find her."

"That doesn't sound so bad? What's the part that Chloe hates?"

* * *

 **Max** stepped out onto the roof. She'd changed back into her morning PJs. _Bait. That's just awesome._ _Thanks, everyone. This is such a bad idea._ And it was going to fucking hurt if shit went bad, wasn't it? She was flinching at every sound, every footstep on the roof, the memory of her last bullet wound fresh in her mind. She knew she'd never hear it coming. Supersonic. But still. Five drones were up overhead, spread out a couple of miles from each other. They'd be able to triangulate the source of any gunfire. All she'd have to do is remember where it came from after the jump back. _If there was a jump back._ Getting hit guaranteed a reset. She was betting it wouldn't come to that. That she'd be fast enough.

Everyone else was downstairs, looking out through silvered windows on all sides - with naked eyes, binoculars, monocles, gunsights - to try to catch direct sight of a muzzle flash in one of the buildings within sight of the roof. .50 caliber rifles weren't invisible when fired, so there was a good chance someone would see it. Sophie was linking everyone, so if anyone did, Max would too. The buildings in the cone of probability were half a mile to a mile out. Based on bullet velocity for the .50, Max would maybe get a one to two second heads-up. Should be able to freeze and dodge. She was nearly instant when she did some quick practice freezes. _Speed of light plus speed of thought… hopefully faster than the speed of a…well…speeding bullet?_ She should have time to react. _As long as someone saw it._ Six buildings, thirty people watching. It wasn't a bad bet. _Right? Shit_. Worst case, she'd take the hit. Jump would reset her body again. _But that's gonna suck hard. Crap. Do not want._

Max's phone was in her back pocket. The picture she'd taken with Chloe earlier was on her lock screen, and she had a paper printout of it in her front pocket. Chloe was crouched near the top of the stairs, but below the roofline out of sight, with a copy on her phone as well. Just in case she needed to run out if something happened to Max or her copies. A few other people had printed copies in their pockets as fail safes.

"Just be casual Max. You're doing great. Maybe a little warm-up or something so it seems like you're not just standing there?" That was John's inner voice.

They'd originally planned for everyone to be mic'd up, with small inner-earpieces. That's when they learned that Sophie was deaf. Had been since birth. She could hear perfectly, but only through the ears of the people around her. Didn't occur to her or Hector to mention it earlier. Didn't usually matter. So on-to-one chats with her using tech was out. After a brief discussion, they ended up going with Sophie's conduit talent as their primary comm network on the ground. At least for this first part. John and a few members of his team were doubling up with normal comms to coordinate with the LA operations center and drones as needed. Mind to mind was a superior experience for what they were trying to do with Max though.

"Hi Max! If I think about it really hard, I make an echoes in here! Hello…hello…hello…Max…max…max…"

"Chloe. Shush. Leave Sophie's brain alone." This wasn't the time for that. But part of her appreciated Chloe's effort to take a little edge off the nervous moment.

One of John's men caught a flash from a building in the middle distance as Max walked out to the center of the roof. She was still connected to Chloe, but saw it through the link. Max immediately reached out with her mind to freeze time. But that's not what happened.

Not…exactly.

"No fucking way." Max could hear Chloe say with her inner voice. And again, a fraction of a second later with her actual voice from the stairwell. The sound of the gunshot finally reached their ears, echoing between minds.

Max looked up, then down. The world was still moving at normal speed, but a very large bullet was frozen in the air two dozen feet in front of her at about waist height. Actually, not frozen in the air. The air around it was frozen in time. As she moved to one side, she could clearly see that the bullet was at the center of a two-foot sphere of frozen space-time. Glistening shimmers of light wave interference from within, surface bending and refracting external light at the boundary layer, lensing the horizon beyond. She had done this. _But how?_

"I was totally just wondering if you could stop a bullet!" said Chloe inside. "Shit! Max! _Look out!_ "

Max felt a puff of air, as a needle slid into the back of her neck.

She saw herself, small, from behind. Alexander's eyes? She felt static energies converge slowly around him as he withdrew the needle from her skin, felt her own skin with his hands as he wrapped arms around her torso, looked to a window in a building half a mile away, and began to fold space.

He conjoined two volumes of air around them, first in his mind, then mirrored in reality, one slightly out of phase with the other, so they didn't fight, so they would co-exist. He gradually cross-shifted the phase between them, aligning the distant volume to their own, taking the first to a different vibration, swapping the volume of air with the volume of their mass, as the wormhole began to collapse, leaving them somewhere else. Looking back at the rooftop through a window from a hallway in a building half a mile away.

She _was_ seeing through Alexander. _Sophie_. She must have passively latched onto him as he appeared on the roof! That meant the others would see where he took her.

 _So that's how he feels space? That's how he does it? I felt all of that._

 _Wait. Why am l conscious at all?_ The world. Moving at greatly reduced speed. She was in the hotel hallway with him. Wormhole still collapsing. That whole thing must have been a fraction of a second. _I must have slowed subconsciously._ Time to get rid of this drug before it could take her down into blackness. She slammed the universe into a full stop, pushed her body clock racing away while her mind hovered. _One alligator. Two alligator. Three alligator._ She made echoing noises in her head. _Chloe…chloe…chloe… Nope. No one else there._

About twelve hours forward on her body if she had to guess. Should be plenty to metabolize the drug. Worked last time. A minute or two to her conscious mind. Nothing to the world.

Max rejoined the flow of the universe, still in Alexander's arms. She wasn't connected to him or Sophie or anyone anymore. _Distance maybe? Or shifting in time might have broken the link. Have to ask Sophie about that later. That might be an interesting defense against telepathic eavesdropping?_ _Micro jumps or nonlinear pulsing to break the telepath's electrical wave sync? And what was up with the bullet thing? Later. Focus on now first._

Max wanted to stay in real time for this if she could. Too many civilians around below. Too much glass. She really didn't want to attract a crowd, or to have to jump back if she didn't have to. She could totally do this. She felt him still holding on to her.

 _Hi Alexander. Surprise, motherfucker._

Max came to life, violently dropping her center of gravity. She shifted forward and to the right in a controlled collapse, pulled him forward and over her shoulder. He hit the floor on his back as she rolled over him, elbows slamming down into his diaphragm and head, pushing off to other side, back onto her feet. Free. He rolled away from her, stood himself back up against the hallway wall, opposite the glass looking out over the city. He ran away, then back toward the glass and looked out. Pop. Vanished.

 _Doh. Nope._ Max rewound. He was back against the hallway wall, unaware that he'd just jumped away. He ran away, back toward the glass. But she was already there in his way. He took a swing at her. _Sucker._ She redirected his arm out and upward in a circle. Accelerating slightly, she drove her left fist up into the now exposed nerve cluster in his right armpit, lifting him off the ground, taking out the arm.

She slid her foot in an arc behind him, followed with her body while spinning the other way in a practiced circular glide, grabbed his other arm at the wrist and shoulder, extended it out and behind with a twist while she propelled him forward to slam face first into the glass wall.

He looked outside through a bloody streak on the glass. Jumped again. Max rewound. Propelled him around in an arc, face first into the solid wall opposite the glass. He turned, tried to swing again with his right. His arm was hanging useless. Wobbled a bit at the shoulder. Max leaned in, her left leg between his, she slid, rotated down trapping his foot against the carpet, took out his left knee sideways with a twist of her thigh and hips. He went down with a cry. She dropped fast, with all of her weight, striking the side of his head with her open palm. Silence. But still breathing.

"Better than last time dude. You ended up like aerated tomato paste. Thank me later." _He just took a Max to the knee!_ she thought to herself, hoping someone else heard that.

She pulled her pajama leg up to her knee, fished the police zip ties out of her sock, threaded them, and secured his wrists and ankles. She yanked a fuzzy pink hotel spa sleep visor out of her front pocket and slipped it over his eyes. _Can't jump when you can't see._ Patted him on the head.

Max took out her phone and composed the shot, tilting her head slightly to one side with a simple cute friendly smile. She snapped the selfie, Alexander tied up in the background over her shoulder. Texted it to Chloe.

 _He's not going anywhere_. She got up, turned and walked back to the glass. _Sophie - if you can hear me, I'm here._ She looked back. He hadn't moved. _Alexander's secured. Send the boys over?_

* * *

 **Chloe** ran to Max as soon as Alexander appeared. But they were gone before she'd covered more than a dozen feet. The crystalline sphere of suspended time popped as they vanished. The bullet contained within continued on its original trajectory, slamming low into the wall behind Chloe, chipping out a foot-wide flower pattern of shattered concrete from the front, punching a one-inch hole clean through to the other side. Chloe dove as the dust wave kicked back. She scrambled back to the stairwell, staying low. _Nope nope nope._

She looked out to see five drones circling a building a little over half a mile away. One of them sputtered, lost balance like an off kilter top, and fell out of view beyond the edge of the wall, smoking. The sound of the shot followed.

Chloe's phone vibrated. Max. And Alexander. _Yes! Go Max!_ She ran downstairs with the selfie on screen, but John and his team had already gone. They saw where Max had landed through Alexander's eyes, and hadn't waited.

"Looks like they've got Dmitri located as well." Sophie pointed out to the drones.

"Julia?" asked Chloe. Margaret, Sophie and Hector were all here, along with a dozen of Max & Chloe's security guys.

"After." said Hector, refreshing his coffee.

 _That dude is way too fucking chill_ , Chloe thought, with a little admiration.

* * *

 **Michaels** ran out of the stairwell into the hall. Max was leaning against the glass, Alexander zip-tied against the far wall. They'd split up to cover more floors on the way up, uncertain exactly where she landed, so he alerted his guys to their location.

"He's alive this time. Just unconscious." said Max casually.

She appeared to be texting. She was looking at something and laughing to herself anyway. _Chloe probably. Or cat pictures?_

"Max, do you have any idea how long…"

"Yep. And if there's a medal ceremony or anything, just let me know the when and where?" She put her phone away, got up. She held his gaze for a beat with a straight face, but finally broke into a smile. "I'm fucking with you John. We've had this conversation. But last time he was mostly paste, so, better, yeah?"

"Of course." He still wasn't sure how to take her. He felt like he knew her really well, after all of the monitoring they'd been subjected to. But talking with her face to face was different. Like navigating a series of inside jokes that she seemed disappointed he wasn't getting. Drawback of hanging out with a time traveler, maybe. _You wouldn't remember most of the time you'd spent with them._ "Nice touch with the blindfold." he offered lamely.

"No reason he shouldn't look fashionable. Or not look. No? Oh c'mon. Cause it's a blindfold? Tough hallway." she shrugged, twirling to look out the window toward the drones circling in the distance. Pajamas, one leg bent, heel pivoting slowly back and forth above the toe of her shoe resting on the carpet. There were moments like this where it was impossible to see her as anything other than a normal teenage girl.

A few of his team made their way into the hall, picked up Alexander, carried him off toward the elevator. One of their sister organizations had a van waiting downstairs that would take him out to Nellis. From there, they'd presumably transport him to one many black sites overseas for interrogation and detention. Probably.

Max was leaning against the glass, light catching her eyes. She looked contemplative.

Michaels had to remind himself. _A normal teenage girl who can manipulate time - the universe itself, in any number of ways. A normal teenage girl who froze an inbound armor piercing anti-materiel round in mid air with her fucking mind. A normal teenage girl who physically beat the shit out of a trained Russian operative who was easily twice her mass. With her bare hands._

He found himself less and less willing to bet against her as time went on.

* * *

 **Max** was spacing for a moment. The city really was pretty in the winter sun from up here. She was looking forward to this day finally being over. Getting back to ice cream and Chloe and hot tub time. No distractions, house guests, or people trying to murder them in inventive ways. Seemed simpler such a short while ago. Ignorance, bliss, etc. She'd run this day too many times though. Her eyes were drawn back to the glinting drones circling off in the distance. _Right. Dmitri. Little bastard. Still owe you for Chloe. And my leg. Four down. Two to go._

"Shall we?" Max asked.

* * *

 **Max** jumped out of the black SUV as it pulled to the curb, Michaels was out behind her. Others followed. Theirs was the second of two vehicles, six people to a car. Drones overhead, the LA team confirmed Dmitri hadn't left. At least not above ground.

On the ride over, they'd fitted Max with a throat mic and earpiece. The mic felt a little uncomfortable, snug, but she thought it looked nice. Like a high tech choker necklace. _This would look hot on Chloe_ , she thought. All she had to do was press a button on one side over the pickup to speak. The earpiece in her right ear shared everything on the ground here, from the LA team as well as the drone operators.

A few LVPD officers were already onsite near the entrance to the building. From what Max could understand, they'd initially responded to a shots fired call from tenants before the LA team called in to their station chief to take over.

John gave the cops his ID, as his crew emerged from the SUVs with their weapons and gear. She could hear a few words carry at this distance. "…national security…terror suspect…" Her earpiece cracked to life. John's voice. "Locals are sending additional personnel to assist. They'll maintain the perimeter, deal with roadblocks, help evacuate civilians. Bomb squad and SWAT on standby. We'll be clearing the building floor by floor, bottom up."

As much as she wanted to be up there on the hunt, Max had agreed to hang out downstairs. She'd listen in on their progress, and if they found Dmitri and captured him without incident, great. That was the hope. But if they ran into any trouble, Max would be there to rewind and alert them to any danger in advance. Another team of twelve from a sister organization was on the way to them to lend a hand, and eventually take care of Dmitri's transport once apprehended. She wouldn't be alone on the ground for long.

After a few minutes, John and his team went in the front entrance. Max heard them speak with the guard at the security kiosk on ground level, where they were given access cards and keys, a tenant map of each floor, and were shown to the stairwells. The elevators had already been locked down, leaving only two emergency stairwells open. The building was mostly offices in the lower two-thirds, with residences in the top group of floors. John's team split six and six, starting with the second floor. Two remained in each stairwell, while two teams of four worked inward to meet at the center of each level. They went office to office, evacuating workers, clearing spaces, closets, and other hiding spots, before locking off and sealing with tape, moving to the next floor up.

 _This is going to take a while._ She leaned against the side of the SUV, still listening in, but texting Chloe at the same time.

Her earpiece crackled. Drone guy. Four vans, inbound, just blew through a roadblock.

Max looked down the road to see a loose line of assorted vans barreling toward her. She wasn't sure why John's reinforcements would need to blow past a roadblock? Didn't look like they were slowing down.

 _Shit!_

One jumped the curb at the crosswalk fifty feet away, heading over the plaza grounds toward the building entrance. One van braked hard, skidded a little sideways, stopped behind their SUVs. The two others went around behind her, pulling to a halt in front. The first van crashed through the front of the lobby, scattering the office workers evacuated from the second floor, sending glass flying everywhere.

Max heard the doors to the van behind open. Turned to look. Five men piled out the side. Two saw her, shouted to the others in Russian, said her name, pointed their guns at her and fired.

Her world froze. Static. Color drained. Time slamming back and forth between fractions of a second, vibrations intensifying.

Death rewind.

They would have killed her just then.

 _Obviously Russians. Here for Dmitri? And me apparently. Guess they've given up taking me alive._

 _So that's how it's gonna be?_

She broke the hold, ran the world back.

 _I'm in a valley of glass buildings. Too many bystanders for shockwaves. No time to alert John. They'd just get into a gun battle anyway._

Sorry Russian dudes. But there are too many people here who will get hurt if we play this your way.

Or mine.

 _What would Chloe do?_

Max kept pushing back, released just before the radio alert, back to normal flow. She opened the front passenger door of the SUV. She'd seen it underneath on the ride over. Reached below the seat and took out the short shotgun. _I always thought that was just a saying, but…_

Her earpiece crackled. Drone guy. Four vans, inbound, just blew through a roadblock.

Max turned, looked down the road to see a loose line of assorted vans barreling toward her.

She waited.

Just as the first van was about to hop onto the sidewalk at the crosswalk, she hit full stop. Walked over. Next to the van, still in the street. Driver. Passenger. Four in back. Machine guns. Grenades?! _Seriously? WTF dudes?_ She got into position, released time to crawl forward. Wheels moved forward less than half an inch when she pulled the trigger on the shotgun. It went off, she could feel it kick hard, but no sound. Nine large pellets slowed to a creep once they left the barrel, moving inexorably toward the rubber of the tire. She froze time again. Repeated the process with the rear wheel on that side. Freeze. Reached in through the side window, let time slide slow again, snapped the steering wheel off at the base with a quick strike of her hand. Removed the pin on the driver's chest-mounted grenade. Freeze.

She walked back to her team's SUV, leaned back, let time go. Sounded like two rapid gun blasts. Both driver's side tires blew. The van pitched left. Missed the ramp. Hit the curb. Hit the concrete light pole. Wrapped around. Stopped dead.

The next van braked hard, skidded a little sideways, stopped behind their SUVs. The two others went around behind her, pulling to a halt in front.

Max heard the doors to the van behind open. She was already looking. Five men piled out the side. Two saw her, shouted to the others in Russian, said her name, pointed their guns at her.

Stop.

Walked around behind.

Start.

They fired. Hit air. She cleared her throat. Two not firing turned. The crashed van fifty feet behind her exploded. Six down. Max fired.

Stop. Move to the side. Start. Fire. Stop.

Driver's side. Start. Fire. Let time run. Three dropped. _Nine down._

Stop. Back around to the passenger side. Three in mid-dive. Start. Fire. Stop. _Ten down._

Move a few feet to the side. Start. Click. Stop. _Shit. Out of shells._

She walked over to the vans stopped in front of their SUVs. Twelve more men, already scrambled out of their vehicles, diving, looking back, looking for cover. She saw that two of them had pistols on their belts. She stood behind one to the rear of the group. Hand near his belt. Let time run forward at half speed, unhooked the retaining strap. Grabbed the pistol, and pulled it up and away. Freeze. She repeated the process with a guy to the side of the first. Stop.

Two pistols. This should actually go pretty fast now. She went back to the back van. Lined up on the two trying to get back up. Start. Firefire. Stop.

Walked over near the entrance to the building. Let time go. _Twelve down. Twelve to go._

 _Stop._

She looked out.

Dropped down to one knee.

A moment of stillness. She looked, really looked at what she'd done.

Fire frozen mid-burn from the van down the road, six men, impact trauma, burned to death. Six men dead on the ground outside the van behind. Each of them shot in the head at close range. Blood bone and pulp and inside-out and ugh. She made herself look. She did this. And by letting this stand, she was choosing this.

 _Twelve men dead._

 _Each with hopes and dreams and families of some sort, right? Each of these people and someone somewhere who loved them maybe?_ She didn't know what circumstances brought them to where they were. But if she took them now, she'd be robbing them of any chance of change. Of redemption. Would any of these men go on to father children? And their children? Was she taking out entire family lines? Right here? Right now?

 _Twelve lives extinguished so far. And you want twelve more? Who's the monster?_

She couldn't keep it in. She threw up her breakfast in a planter near the door.

She still felt sick. The kind you can't shake over a planter.

She could argue it was self-defense. Anyone could. Her options to defend herself from twenty-four men armed with guns and grenades were limited. She was just a girl. Even with abilities, no one would blame her for taking this path. But inside she knew.

This wasn't defense. It wasn't even close to a fair fight. These were executions. Anger. For killing Chloe. For trying to kill her. But Chloe is fine. And she was fine.

This was a violent path. A path of death. Destruction. Is this what she was? What she wanted for herself? Is this what Chloe would want for her? If this was okay now, what would be okay in the future? This was the path of Vader. To see these horrors made real. To inflict them, knowing she could undo them, and just move on. If she left these men dead, this was her choice. _Not necessity. Choice._

This would be an example of the world being the way it was because she made it that way.

What kind of world would that be? What kind of foundation for a future was this?

Was Sophie right?

Was she just going to be a more powerful version of _them_?

The cave. The paintings. So filled with wonder and hope. And happiness and life.

She rolled up her sleeve, looked down at her butterflies with shame.

She didn't deserve them.

Rachel. One life missing. So many affected.

Twelve men. Each one was someone's Rachel.

What she'd just done, taken, belonged to the other side of that cave. The other wall. Darkness and grease and smoke.

This had been so easy. So fast. Just adrenaline. And power.

But it was wrong. And she knew it.

There was always another way. There had to be.

She was better than this.

She _had_ to be…better than this.

She had a responsibility.

To them. To herself. To Chloe. To life. To everyone.

This wasn't her. She didn't want this. Not if there was any other way.

She had to find another way.

She put down the guns.

 _Rewind._


	15. Better Mousetrap

**Max** stood by the entrance while the world ran backward. _How far back should I go? I still don't know how I'm going to deal with these dudes in a way that keeps them alive. If it comes down to it, I can always just run away. But that's leaving the problem for someone else. With a chance of a worse outcome._

She hit pause just after John's team went up the stairwell, a minute or so before the drone operator spotted the vans. What did she have to work with? She did a quick mental inventory. _Whatever I can find in the vans. Whatever I can scrounge out of the office building there. I can rewind to any point. I could use any of the photos I've taken to jump back, temporarily or permanently, for whatever purpose._

Sophie, Hector and Chloe were also still back at the hotel. She had the LA team on call, and anything they could mobilize with whatever lead time she could give them. She had the drones. And she had comms.

She knew she could hold the freeze as long as she needed, and could yo-yo back and forth in time trying different things until she got it right. The goal was to get Dmitri, preferably alive, and disable his Russian backup without killing them. Which meant solving the backup problem herself, without involving the tac teams. Every tool they had was a gun, which wouldn't do for this.

She could jump back to the hallway and alert the drone pilots to be on the lookout for…a bunch of vans, maybe traveling together? Somewhere in Las Vegas? And do what with them? Any LVPD officers who pursued would be on the receiving end of far too many guns. Still just moving the problem to someone else. Nope. She didn't think there was anything anyone back at their hotel could do to help either. They were safer where they were.

So it was basically back to her, here, now.

 _Okay. Good to know. You've thought that through at least. So Think Max. We need to stop the first van from crashing into the lobby. We need to get rid of every one of their fucking grenades - that's just all kinds of stupid. We need to prevent them from shooting anyone or anything. And we need to take them out of the fight quickly. Four vans. Twenty-four dudes. Two grenades each? One to two weapons each. Every one of the men probably trained in hand to hand fighting. K?_

 _What problems are we going to run into? I can't manipulate much of anything that I'm not carrying when the world is frozen. Smallish things will sync to me once I pick them up though. When the time is flowing, I have to be careful about relative speed and immersion level. Don't want to make another mile-wide crater, don't want to create shockwaves that could shatter glass or hurt people, but also don't want to get shot. So I can't stay frozen, can't go too fast, and I can't go too slow. Shit. What does that leave?_

 _Twenty-four grown-ass men. I could take their guns, but I'd shatter their hands and arms into bloody bursting overripe meat-sicles while pulling them free. They'd probably bleed out from the shredding and tearing and trauma. And I'd make waves at those speeds that would hit the surrounding buildings anyway. Pass._

 _If I was going slower, focusing on any one person would mean the other twenty-three would get to aim at me. That won't work either._

 _Jumping in and out of freeze worked great when I had a gun. Avoids most speed differential problems. Didn't give them anywhere to focus, so it seems like that's a win. Just looks like rapid teleporting. I can use it again. I wonder if I could use…_ She was beginning to formulate the outlines of a plan.

 _Son of a bitch. Chloe - your girlfriend is 100% pure evil fucking genius!_

Popping out of the freeze to open the van door, she emptied two duffel bags full of gas masks, body armor and medkits onto the ground. _These will do._ Froze again. Went into the building, upstairs, starting the world to open doors, drawers, closets, cabinets, stopping, rewinding, repeating as she filled her duffels with equal parts hilarity and impending Russian sadness.

She walked back out of the front door with most of what she needed in the duffels. Re-aligned time so that John and his team had just gone into the stairwell, about a minute before the drone operator called out the vans. Stopped. Without advancing, she started making trips out, back and forth, dropping off items and supplies in strategic locations, carrying out other preparations.

* * *

 **Max** finished her setup. She did a little skip back to the SUV by the curb, and restarted the universe.

Her earpiece crackled. Drone guy. Four vans, inbound, just blew through a roadblock.

Max looked down the road to see a loose line of assorted vans barreling toward her. The first one was going to be the most difficult to get right. It jumped the curb at the crosswalk fifty feet away, heading over the plaza grounds toward the building entrance.

Stop.

She ran over to the van, about ten feet past the crosswalk. Looked in through the window. Driver. Passenger. Four dudes in back. Check. She reached in through the driver's window and gingerly removed the grenades from his chest, careful not to move the safety pins, and deposited them in the bag slung over her shoulder. She climbed in through the open window, clambered awkwardly over the top of the driver, and salvaged the grenades from each of them, as well as any other weapons they weren't directly holding with their hands. She doubted she'd be able to move the guns they held while in the freeze, and she was right. People, objects, mostly immobile. Solid. Unsecured objects like freestanding rifles, and smaller objects like handguns and grenades all synced with MaxTime as she touched them - so she had no problems there. Just like her phone.

She climbed back out through the window. Not a bad haul. Twelve grenades, five pistols, and two rifles. That left four still holding their rifles inside, and one holding a pistol. They'd probably be letting go of most of that soon enough. But for now, there was more work to do.

She carried the duffel back inside the building and emptied the contents into a concrete trashcan she'd removed the lid from earlier. She repeated the process with the other three vans. She got all of the grenades, most of the handguns, and few more assault rifles. She placed the lid on the can, headed out for the next phase.

Back to the first van. She picked up the coil of fire hose she'd liberated from the lobby of the office building and had previously secured to the stone light pole. She crawled under the van at the rear, threading the hose through gaps in the frame, looping it around the rear axle, driveshaft, and up to the front wishbone suspension of the left front tire, where she tied the hose off with a few large loose knots.

She climbed out from under the van, and back inside through the drive's window. She took the pad of fuchsia sticky notes from her back PJ pocket, placing one over each eye of the men inside. She looked to see if any of their wrists or ankles were positioned near each other, or near another solid object like a seat post or armrest, and tied loops and knots around anything she found using USB cables she'd taken from upstairs. She did the same with their rifles, mostly securing them awkwardly to unintended parts of them, their clothing, or the van interior. She was able to reach and activate the magazine eject button on two of them. She removed the fire extinguisher from her duffel, removed the safety pin and wedged it lever-side up underneath the gas pedal arm. Finally, she zip-tied the driver's wrists to the steering wheel.

She went back to wait by the SUV.

Started the world turning again.

The first van seized up before it traveled another twenty feet. The fire hose reached its maximum tension, and the front left wheel linkage broke. The van veered left, then the rear rose violently, metal straining and snapping as the van slammed back down to a shrieking halt.

The second van braked hard, skidded a little sideways, stopped behind their SUVs. The two others went around behind her, pulling to a halt in front.

Max heard the doors to the van behind open. She was already looking. Five men piled out the side. Two saw her, shouted to the others in Russian, said her name.

Stop sooner.

Walked around behind.

Start.

They pointed their guns where she was. She cleared her throat. Two not pointing turned.

Stop.

She put stickies over their eyes. Drew smiley faces on them with markers. Went around to the other side, stickied the other three. Went over to the driver's side. Tie wrapped his wrists to the steering wheel, removed the keys from the ignition. Went back curbside, tied two arms from two men together with a printer cable, found three more legs in proximity, secured them together in a cat's cradle of pretty, woven HDMI cabling she'd taken from a conference room, looped back through holes in the van's rims for good measure.

She went over to the two vans in front of the SUVs, looking for legs, arms, anything in crossover, anywhere she could wrap a length of cabling or zip ties among the twelve men exiting. She took keys from each vehicle. One man was frozen mid-stride, brushing up against a light pole. She ran back over to the other duffel bag, dropped off all the keys, and fished out some cling wrap she'd found in an office kitchen. She ran back and secured him to the pole with the entire roll, leaving him like the victim of a large plastic spider. The others got the sticky note treatment as well.

She found a good spot to stand, clear of any weapons, and ran time forward at one quarter speed, observing. Within a few seconds, half the men had tripped and fallen outright. No one could see a thing. An orchestra of confusion and gravity, performed with breathtaking grace in slow motion.

Stop.

Two had released their weapons after falling, reaching for their eyes, trying to understand the resistance in their limbs. She retrieved the fallen weapons, finding more crossed limbs to tie up with packing twine, yarn, and a variety of cables. Moved the rifles inside.

She ran back over to the first van to check on the inhabitants. Airbags had popped for the two in front, and the fire extinguisher had already filled the front half of the van with CO2 mist. The men in back had been jostled. One had released his hold on his rifle. She reached in and took it through the now broken side window. All were stickied still, and having some difficulty navigating their bindings. Almost no time had passed.

She dropped the weapon off inside, ran back to the van behind the SUVs. One of the men had managed to remove his sticky notes from over his eyes in the last burst forward. She put them back, then put a gas mask on him, securing the stickies over his eyes.

A few more limbs to secure to each other. Run time forward. They flail. Stop. Replace stickies. Tie any new limbs to other parts, other people. Eject the magazines from a few more rifles. Eject the round from the pipe of one. Put everything inside.

The collective had gotten to a point of sufficiently tangled webbing, no one was free to wander. They were barely free to scratch. Time to make some half speed runs to pry weapons out of confused and tangled hands. Stop. Replace stickies. Remove a few more weapons, tie a few more appendages. Check on the first van again. Mag eject. Pipe eject. Secure one more rifle.

It took her about an hour and a half of MaxTime, whittling them down, wearing them out, limb by limb, bit by bit, two second burst by half speed by stop and tie. But by the end, she'd completely disarmed and secured all of them. None were free. Few could see at all or seemed to have any idea what had happened to them. Maybe one to two minutes of world time had passed. Tops. Tired, but satisfied, Max kicked time back into gear.

She took a breath, tapped her throat mic switch once, and cleared her voice. "Just an update from outside. Some friends of Dmitri showed up. They're handled, but you might want to give the inbound tac team a heads-up that they're going to have a few extra men in need of transport." She clicked the switch off.

" _That's_ how you do it Max." she admonished herself quietly.

She sat down near the entrance, generally keeping an eye out for any wrigglers she might need to re-secure. Fished a chocolate milk out of the duffel. Also liberated from an office kitchen. She earned this one.

It was the best tasting chocolate milk she could remember.

* * *

 **Michaels** walked out of the stairwell. Two of his guys followed him out, Dmitri between them, hands cuffed behind his back. Others trailing behind. They'd found him up on the sixth floor, sitting in a conference room, eating egg salad from someone's lunch. He wasn't talking, but it was pretty clear that he knew he had nowhere to go, and that his help wasn't going to be any help. He wasn't a talent. Just a particularly well practiced marksman.

Michaels heard Max over the radio ten minutes earlier. He knew better than to send anyone down - Dmitri was the priority, and he knew she had things handled. She'd said 'a few guys', but by his count, it was closer to two dozen. Disarmed, their weapons safely stored inside. The men were artistically arranged on the ground or secured to objects in an expanded tangle of limbs, cables, tape and cling wrap? _Seriously?_

 _Dwight Schrute would be proud._ Max didn't just beat them. She humiliated them. With style. Twenty-four hardened Russian operatives, defeated by an eighteen-year-old girl in pajamas, armed with office supplies. In under a minute. Wouldn't look great on their tough-guy-bad-guy resumes, that was for damn sure.

Michaels wasn't surprised given what he'd seen of Max under pressure. But he was still impressed. She'd managed it without them firing even a single shot. No casualties. No damage beyond the disabled van near the plaza. Beyond professional. His teams would have had to slug it out shot for shot. Every metric would have gone the other way. Max just quietly owned them as far as he could tell.

She was leaning against the inside of the glass, holding a chocolate milk. Nodded toward Dmitri. "Nice one John."

"You too Max. Although I think our ratios are a bit off."

"How so?"

"A dozen for one vs one for two dozen?"

"Today maybe. Balances out. You guys can catch up next time." She gave him a happy looking smile. The kind where her eyes smiled too. One of his teammates caught the exchange. When Max had turned away to walk out, he shook his head at Michaels in a silent chuckle.

Michaels nodded. Shrugged.

* * *

 **Chloe** had been texting on and off with Max all afternoon. They got Dmitri. So it was something like twenty-nine down, one to go, or some shit? _Don't fuck with Max, bitches._ Or was it thirty down by now with Julia? Words like 'unprecedented coup', 'strung up like wet laundry', and 'annals of secret history' were being thrown around over the secure comm link. Everyone was on an up.

 _Everything worked out today after all._ Sophie and Hector had been super helpful as allies. John and his team had turned out to be the right call. Everyone worked together smoothly. Not exactly what she expected. She thought everyone had pretty much opposite agendas and loyalties at the start. _How much of this was Max behind the scenes?_

They wouldn't need to do any special psychic mojo to find Julia either as it turned out. TSA flagged her for screening at McCarran twenty minutes ago. She came up in their system as 'detain as part of an ongoing active terrorist threat'. There were already a few tac guys on standby at the airport, so they stepped in, and were arranging transport.

 _Max should be getting home soon._

Chloe found herself watching the clock more than once. And the door.

* * *

 **Chloe** cracked open a beer on the edge of the coffee table, sending a little foam onto the carpet below. _If there's a wrap party for this little adventure, this table is the epicenter. Pressure off. Hanging out for a few before dispersing our separate ways. Or staying here, and others disperse…whatever._

"…I think there's a certain poetry in it." offered Sophie, nodding at Max. Chloe was zoning a bit, so didn't really catch the first part. If it was about Max, she could probably agree on principal.

"What's the official stance on the merits of improvisation John?" asked Max with a grin, feet up on the table, arm draped over Chloe's leg. Relaxed.

John answered, looking to Margaret for backup. "Definitely worth extra points. Right? I mean, three per capture, at least?"

"I'll have to consult the employee manual, but yes, I believe so." said Margaret with a far-too-serious-to-be-serious face.

"You guys couldn't afford me. So I probably don't fall under that guideline. But I'll still take the points." Max leaned back into Chloe.

Chloe thought she saw a quick glance between John and Margaret at the first part of Max's response. _Interesting._

Chloe jumped in. "I agree. I saw the pictures. I think it was inspired. Cling wrap guy was by far my fav. _So_ decorative." She was smart. She pieced together the context, even if she wasn't entirely paying attention earlier. _Shrug._

Max turned to John with a quizzical look. "So did he ever say? Why the egg salad?"

"Still a deep forbidden mystery at the moment. I'm sure it will be top of the list of questions once they get him wherever he's going."

Chloe caught Sophie smiling slightly. _She knows! She fucking knows, and she's not sharing!_ The Great Russian Egg Salad Mystery. Maybe some secrets were too damaging? Sophie and Margaret looked at each other. It was only a casual look across the table, but Chloe sensed that they were communicating. _Fucking telepaths anyway._ These two weren't that bad. Compared to what? _I don't know. But they're not all that bad._

* * *

 **Max** was enjoying this little wind-down. It had been a while since she and Chloe had just hung out with anyone. Other than themselves. Like more than five years, if she was being honest about it. Together, the two of them had always been a team, excepting years spent apart. But on her own, Max was mostly SoloMax. Where Chloe had Rachel. But not really anyone else. Being social could be exhausting for an introvert, but this felt different. More people didn't necessarily equal more awk and more stress. Not always. With the right people.

Max leaned back into Chloe, absently running her fingers in irregular patterns on the inside of Chloe's thigh, above her knee. _She smells good. Beery. Smokey. But still._ Under all of that, something unmistakably Chloe.

Max felt a mental knock at the door. _Sophie?_

 _Hey Max. Sorry to bug. Margaret and I have come to a bit of a deal. We both have questions about trust that could be quickly solved with a few-second peek across protected lines. We want to get a glance into John, and they want to get a glance into you. I won't allow anything without your permission, but I don't think there's any harm._

Max thought back. _Um. Okay. Should I think about anything in particular?_

 _No, doesn't work like that. If you're okay, we'll just do it quickly?_

 _Sure Sophie. What the hell. Worth it if we can get a read on John. Good guy or bad guy stuff, right?_

Max could see a quick look between Sophie and Margaret. They each unfocused for a moment. Max could feel the sense of 'other' pushing through, the way Sophie had taught them to recognize a telepath on walkabout earlier. Then it was gone.

Sophie smiled. Margaret looked a bit conflicted. Max wasn't sure what that meant.

Hector leaned forward, around Sophie, then ducking back to look behind Max. "Chloe, can I get a copy of the picture Max took of Vankin?"

"Sure. What's your mobile?"

Hector gave it to her, and Max heard a soft beep-whoosh sound from Chloe's phone.

"Cool - you should have it now."

"Thanks." Hector checked, guy-nodded, leaned back behind Sophie again.

"Sophie, I want to thank you and Hector again for everything you guys did to help. Across multiple timelines. I know you didn't have to. The muzzle flash lookout plan saved my ass for reals. I don't think we could have done any of this without you."

Margaret said "It's a really unique expression of talent Sophie. I'm really impressed with what you can do at your age."

Sophie nodded at Margaret, looked back to Max. "Of course Max. Glad we could be here. I know you have a few questions. We'll catch up before we leave in a bit, ok?"

"Sure." nodded Max, reaching across to the table for an olive.

Sophie continued. "I didn't know you could stop bullets. That's very…"

"…Neo, right?" Chloe jumped in.

Hector leaned forward "Or Magneto?"

Max said to Sophie "Yeah, talk later." _Not sure how that happened Sophie._

Chloe was linked in to Sophie and Max as well. _I don't know Max. It was super weird timing. I was having a total wish movie-flashback moment, wondering if you could, and bang. There it was - just hanging there. Sophie - is it possible my thoughts triggered something in Max through your conduit link?_

Sophie appeared to be listening to John while answering. _It's possible. Max can do so much, but she's still learning, growing. Or remembering? Unclear. But suggestion might have triggered something under the stress of the moment. We've had some symbiotic powers only work through the link. A plain old suggestion would make sense too I suppose._

Max, remembering all of the training and experiments they had planned, _we should totally experiment!_

Sophie laughed at something John said. _Sure. We have to take off tonight, but our minds have all touched. We'll be able to reconnect remotely. Just let me know._

Chloe returned to audible speech, responding to Hector. Only seconds had passed. "Maxneto? Sounds better than Meo."

"I like cats." volunteered Hector.

Sophie smiled.

Chloe & Max both started meowing. "Mrowr? Meo. Meow?"

Hector laughed.

Sophie rolled her eyes. "You guys are _so_ weird."

"It takes a mind reader for this diagnosis?" laughed John. Margaret nodded at Sophie as well.

One of John's guys gave him a spinning motion over his shoulder. _Looks like the last of their gear is loaded up?_

"I think that's our cue, Margaret." said John, rising up off the sofa, extending a hand down to her.

"Time to go, yes."

"Max, it's been a pleasure. Hopefully I'll remember working with you this time?"

"Hopefully. I'm really glad I called you though. Again, couldn't have done it without you and your team's help." Max got up, Chloe followed.

"Hardly seems like a fair trade. We'll hang on to Alexander, and probably Julia for a while. The rest will be currency for exchanges with the Russians. They've had a few minor but high value talents of ours for a couple of years. We've got nearly thirty of their men to bargain with. Even at an unfairly inflated exchange rate, we come out ahead. Be nice to bring them home. So this is one we owe you I think." John turned to Sophie and Hector. "And you two as well."

Sophie tilted her head in acknowledgment. "This was instructive for us as well. I think all accounts remain balanced between us."

Margaret and Sophie shared a look and a subtle nod. Max was the only one who appeared to notice.

Max looked at both groups. "We did make a pretty good team."

"Even if we all have our own things going on." noted Chloe. _Cynic._

John gave Chloe a nod. "Some of us answer to others. But I agree with Max."

"Indeed." said Sophie.

"And some of us remain wholly independent. But I think it's important for all of _us_ _here_ to stay in touch. We may not always overlap, but we shouldn't bump heads either." Max said, leading toward the door.

John began to follow. "No arguments. It was a pleasure working with all of you. Alright. Time to go. Miss Margaret - give you a lift to the airport?"

"Thanks John. Of course. Let's get out of their hair."

Max walked John and Margaret to the door, Chloe with her.

"So about those drones? Any chance we could get a little privacy now and again?" Chloe addressed John, squinting.

John thought for a moment. "You two should keep the comm units. They're a bit more advanced than what you'll find commercially. You can change out the encryption between the units for private use, but you can reach us on channel 11. I think we'd prefer to keep the drones around - for your protection. But if you want them to give you some space, or the roof, or whatever, just ping the operators. They can go park on a roof below, or something."

"Fair enough." Nodded Chloe.

John and Margaret waved goodbye to Hector and Sophie on their way out the door.

* * *

 **Max** & Chloe walked back arm in arm, plopped down on the sofa opposite Sophie & Hector.

Chloe gave it a beat, and asked "So what's the deal with you two? Are you boinking or what?"

"Chloe!" said Max in surprise.

Sophie didn't seem bothered in the least. "We've been partnered up for five years. It's not without occasional difficulties, but we've developed a…"

"…symbiotic relationship." finished Hector. "It's not exactly what either of us wants in total, but it's close enough. We accept the status quo."

Max gave Chloe a side-eye for being so direct.

Chloe looked at Max defensively "What? You said it yourself. She knows what we're thinking as soon as we do. And they still gave us a total non-answer."

"This is so weird. I'm sorry Sophie." _Jesus Chloe! What the hell?_

Sophie jumped in. "Why Max? It's totally okay. She's right. I don't have a filter. I can't turn this…off. I'm pretty immune to shock - people's thoughts…well, I've seen everything. Chloe's just being direct, not an asshole. Anyway, I'm not immune to mood extremes, but that's another story. Do you have any idea what kinds of swings can happen when you're in the heads of everyone around you?"

"One of the areas where I help her." Hector touched her arm briefly.

"Hector keeps me even. Anchored. Literally."

Chloe leaned forward, snaked an olive, popped it into her mouth. "So is Hector also a telepath, or…"

Sophie leaned back. "His secondary talent is what we've termed _projecting empath_. So he can feel and alter moods in others. But only when linked through me. There's more, but that's the part that helps me."

"And she helps me quiet my mind when the streams become too much. It's mutual. But I can also see knots in people's minds. Tangled lines of recursion that come from trauma. Like little poison magnets. Drawing thoughts and attention, sickening slightly with each pass. Sometimes, working with someone through Sophie's conduit skills, I can help people untangle, unknot groups of thoughts."

"Like brainwashing?" Chloe said, with a look of concern.

Sophie shook her head. "No, no. Nothing like that Chloe. He doesn't erase or remove or make things hurt any less. But between us, Hector can navigate to the core of things. Show someone what exactly, or why. Specifically, not generally. Think of it like years and years of therapy with a great therapist, distilled down to a few minutes. You still have to do some work after, but you have a detailed map. You can see cause and effect."

"So you're helping people identify things, and that starts them healing?" Max was genuinely curious.

"Close enough, yeah." Hector looked at Sophie, then back to Max.

Chloe put her hands out in front of her, looking at Sophie, Hector and Max in turn. "I'm sorting my own shit out - no need to go poking around."

Hector smiled, laughed. "It's not something that can be done _to_ someone. They have to participate. I can help, but only when people want it."

"Okay. I'm sure that's all true. But just saying for the record. I'm sorting my own shit out with Max. And that's been helpful to me."

 _Chloe's serious about this_ , thought Max. _I think it would be super helpful if someone could just point and say 'there - squish that, and you won't have anxiety in crowds anymore"._

Hector held Chloe's eyes. "I see that."

"We were just explaining Chloe. Not pushing." Max could hear the kindness in Sophie's voice as she sought to reassure Chloe.

Sophie turned. "Same goes for you Max. We're here if you want." _It's not exactly squishing, Max._ "But I see that you're sorting things out okay on your own too."

"What do you mean?" asked Max, puzzled. She didn't recall having any major angst issues…

"It's okay. I can see that you struggle with it sometimes."

"Ah." _Oh yeah. That whole 'do I murder all these people, or staple them to each other and decorate them with craft paper and pens' thing…_

"For what it's worth, the bad guys don't agonize over this stuff. They just take the fast way. The easy way." Sophie looked down. _Remembering?_

Max thought for a moment. She'd probably have to explain all of this to Chloe later, but she was in the flow with Sophie at the moment, so continued. "I could have. It scares me how easy that could have been."

"But you didn't. And you're right to be scared. That second guessing, that sense of self disappointment, shame. It's the only defense any of us really have against you. You understand that right?"

"Max?" Chloe looked at her with concern, put her arm around Max's shoulder, leaned in a little.

"I'll catch you up later Chloe. I just…had a moment today where things could have gone one way or the other."

Sophie leaned forward "And she chose to stay on the lighter path, Chloe."

Sophie addressed Max through her conduit link. _With your permission, I can help you share this with Chloe._

 _How do you mean?_ Max thought back.

Sophie continued. _Through the conduit. It's not just words. You can share whatever you want. It's different from words. Images, feelings, memories, a lifetime?_

 _But you see all of it?_

 _I already do Max. It's okay. It's a gift I meant to give you both last night, if it's of interest to you._

Max wondered _How would this work?_

Sophie showed her. _You could share anything. Everything. Whatever you choose. And if she's willing, she could do the same._

 _Are we ready for that kind of sharing?_ Max asked, more of herself than Sophie.

 _Only you two could answer that._

 _Well, we can do this any time, right? You don't have to be right here in the room with Chloe and I?_

 _That's correct._

 _Okay. Let me talk to her about it offline? I think it's a lovely, amazing, impossible gift you're offering us. But it's not just my decision, regardless of who's willing to share what. And she's sensitive about her brain. :) Holy crap! I can do emoji in here?_

 _Hahaha. Yes. It's an abstract space. And very fast. And I know Max. It's an open invitation to allow me to facilitate a deep mental, emotional exchange between the two of you. It might help cut through confusions or misunderstandings in the years ahead._

 _Thank you Sophie. I mean it. Well, you know that. I'm going back to voice._

Chloe responded "Well, I'm glad you're not going all darkside already - should we be worried that this was even a thing though?"

Sophie looked to them both. "That she experiences conflict is not worrisome. It's a healthy sign of maturing humanity. Self-reflection, doubt, empathy, awareness, right, wrong. Max, you never 'fix' it. It doesn't get 'solved'. You manage it. It's an ongoing lifelong thing. Internal checks keep you confident you're on the right path. You and Chloe, the butterflies, the way animals react to you, the wonderful gifts you were allowed to see in the caves - these are your guides. Like power-ups for your conscience."

Chloe did some mental math. "So how does any of that affect half your friends wanting to kill us? Not to bring back that topic, but I'm curious how you're leaving us there."

"It's not simple Chloe. Emotions are the first line of reaction. But they're an effect, not a cause. In time, I'm hopeful that heads will cool. But for now, yes. There are still those who would see you dead. I'm sorry. And those who still want you to consider going back - to separate and disappear. But we know you won't. In the same way we here know they can't really do anything to you or Chloe. Nothing that will stick, anyway. There are others among us who would beg your patience. Your understanding. Compassion. And eventually, your forgiveness for what others of us will undoubtedly attempt."

Max considered this for a moment. "Thank you Sophie. I do understand. But I won't tolerate anyone fucking with Chloe. I'll say that upfront. There's no forward timeline standing where she dies permanently. I don't care who tries. _Them_. Talent offshoots. Whatever. I _am_ team Chloe. And that's a train that doesn't stop. So if they're worried about us being turned, they shouldn't. There's no power in the 'verse that'll keep me from setting her back to right."

Chloe looked at Max. "That was a really good Mal, Max. I have chills."

Hector leaned forward, nodded at Chloe. "Take care of each other. Time to move on Sophie. And Chloe, thanks for the pic."

"Any time Hector. Stay in touch. You guys…are alright."

Sophie nodded. Without a word, she and Hector got up, walked to the door.

Max, trailing, asked "Hey, Sophie, what happened with you and Margaret. Cross-peeping at peeps? Peep peeping I guess?"

"She had five seconds in your mind. She seemed satisfied that there wasn't anything terrible going on. I had five seconds in John's mind."

"And…?"

"He's a soldier. A leader, although he doesn't admit that often. He's not a saint. But he's not a monster either. For what it's worth."

"Thanks Sophie. That's what I was hoping to learn."

"We'll all see each other soon enough. But until then, take care. And remember Max, no individual can be said to act on behalf of all of the talented."

"I get that. But please ask the least fearful among you to moderate the more passionate ones? We have no wish for conflict with anyone. But if it comes - from any direction - Chloe and I will be standing at the end of it."

"Of that, I have no doubts."

* * *

 **Chloe** and Max walked back to the sofa after their guests had departed. 8pm.

"So how was your day dear?" Max batted her eyelashes at Chloe, fell back over the arm of the sofa, floofing into the cushions with a bounce.

"You know, it was mostly okay. But I'm sorry - I actually can't talk now. I need to take a shower and get ready. Taking my girlfriend out to dinner tonight, and I really want to look nice." Chloe flipped her hair.

"Oh? Should I be jealous?" eyebrows raised, eye contact.

"I would be if I were you. She's pretty hot. And she's got superpowers, so you know… Better be careful."

Max pulled herself up. "Hmmm. I should steal her away myself. Maybe I'll just join you then. Meet this chick." She wrapped her arms around Chloe, bodies tight, faces close. Nuzzle in to the side. Light nibbling kisses right below Chloe's jaw, up under her ear, Max's hand tracing along her spine, up her neck, into her hair, a little tug of hair at her scalp as she played with Chloe's earlobe with her lips and tongue.

"In the shower…or for dinner?" Chloe's eyes crossed a little for a second.

"Both of course." Max broke away. Took Chloe's hand in hers, started walking toward the master bathroom, tugging her along.

"I like this plan." Chloe, trailed behind in a show of fake resistance.

* * *

 **Michaels** and Margaret were in the back seat of the armored black SUV, on the way to drop Margaret at the airport, before taking John on to Nellis. One of John's tac team was driving. The others had gone ahead. He'd catch up before their flight left.

They were still doing a bit of informal debrief between them before splitting up.

Michaels said it simply. "She's a goddamn force of nature."

"She is. Sometimes the world needs a force of nature. Something to disrupt the balance. Or return it."

"Did you see anything in there?" he asked, wondering if there'd been a crack in Sophie's vigilance.

"Nothing you don't already know. Or at least feel."

"Confirmation then?"

Margaret looked out of the window for a moment before answering. "She's one of the good guys. So far."

Michaels could read between the lines. "So you suspect that may not go over well?"

"I can be selective in my own reports."

"I'll leave that alone. I think she'd be a good ally for some operations."

"But not all."

"But not all. No."

Margaret stopped, looked at Michaels. "She's not recruitable."

"I know. That's why I'm trying to push the independent partner angle so hard."

"Think that will work?" she asked incredulously.

"I don't know. They'll want control. I don't think they have a chance at that with her." He shrugged.

"I agree. Even using Chloe as leverage, her power is just too far outside. She could end-run everything they put up. They won't see it like that though." She sounded resigned. "Not until it's too late."

"I'm hoping they'll see the merits. She could be a hell of an asset if we let her."

"And a threat, John. She has wealth, power beyond even what she realizes. And she's already recruiting her own team of operatives and talents. Even If she doesn't see it that way yet."

"Should I have left a resume?" he smiled.

Their driver piped in "If you don't, I might."

" _They_ 'd love that. But honestly, if push comes to shove, you should follow your instincts guys."

"Fuck instincts. Pardon my crude English. I'll trust my eyes. I don't love the idea of going up against her." John leaned back, looking out the window to the passing lights.

"Like I said, I have discretion in how much I report. I assume you do too?"

"Of course. Are you suggesting anything in particular Margaret?"

"No. But I don't disagree with you. Going at her head on? Seems like a short walk right into a sharp fan-blade."

 _Speaking of fan-blade…_ "Shit. Sam's not going to like this."

"I'm less concerned about Sam. He's only on contract." she said. Not quite dismissively. Not quite believing it?

"Think they're dumb enough upstairs to go after Chloe?" _I hope not, but…_

"I think you should try very hard to persuade them that independent contractor is a good place for her."

"It's the best they can possibly hope for is what it is." John said. The driver nodded at him in the mirror on that one. They all saw it too. She wasn't your run of the mill talent. _Force of fucking nature. You don't win those fights. Lucky if you survive them._

"Not sure I'd say it to _them_ like that exactly. But yeah, mutual interest is where you all should play."

"You'll back me on that?"

"Already do. I'm just worried it won't be enough, John."


	16. Complication

**Max** felt the cool hard tile beneath her. Face down. _What?_ Other senses followed, too much light through closed lids. Stale hot air. And a wet ache in the back of her head that wouldn't stop. She opened her eyes, even brighter. Squinted. Still too much. She forced herself to push up from the ground. To her knees. Then standing. Uncertain of her balance.

She lurched to the shadows of the nearest wall. Marble. She leaned against it, comforted by the solidity against her back and relief from the overbearing light. She was in an atrium of some sort. Glass and steel towering in front, ceiling three stories or more above.

Something uncertain lurked outside, beyond the glass front. A boiling discomfort that pushed her up. She found the stairs, curving to her left. Followed them. A balcony. Two doors. One opened as she approached. Elevators. Should put enough distance between her and the outside. She leaned her way in. Something left behind in the corner. A jacket? Bag? The door wasn't closing fast enough. Dimmed inside, lights flickered. The flat screen on the inner wall broken, shattered by fist or bat, she wasn't sure. _Is that blood?_ Up. Have to go up. The button was already lit. 109. Door closed, elevator kicked to life, acceleration dropped her to the floor. Too fast. Too much force. Her ears popped. Ride over. Door opened.

She crawled out, forced herself to stand again. Into sunlight. Wind. The air was cooler. Ahead, a railing. Light blue sky above. Her eyes adjusted. She approached the railing, coin operated telescopes dangling from posts.

She looked out over the city. Las Vegas. Desert basin ringed by haze against mountains. The strip was ahead. She could see a patch of green off to the left of the main drag. A golf course? Park?

 _Why am I up here?_

A spark jumped to life in the middle distance. From the center of the strip. It became a flicker. An orange, yellow, white, then blue glow. The glow became an insistent blinding point, growing in diameter and brightness. A small sun. Too bright. Too hot. Shouldn't be there. Buildings stopped being buildings. She looked away. She saw her shadow stark against the wall behind her, shadow arm covering shadow head. Heat. Spectrum descended, reversed. Shadow decreased.

False sun faded. She looked back, shockwave moved outward in a ring, carrying force, debris. Smoke covered the center, destruction obscured as a small mushroom cloud began to rise. Sucking air toward it. It wasn't a giant bomb like she'd seen in movies. But it was big enough. The smoke continued to climb to the center, and up. Where the Bellagio and Paris stood, there was nothing. The ring of fire extended out at least a half mile in every direction. Bits of concrete structure protruding stubbornly. Every bit of glass blown out for another mile beyond that. Power was out as far as she could see. A jet rolled sideways, fell from the sky above to crash into a neighborhood to the south, more flames and smoke. The cloud continued to rise, curling fire in smoke rings, racing upwards. The sound that reached her ears was deafening. Deadening. The tower shook violently as the seismic waves below caught up.

Debris flew by and rained down. Even up here. A newspaper. Stuck to a rail. She took it. December 17th, 2013. Half-remembered headlines of the following day. 24,000 dead. 35,000 injured, half of those expected to die within days. And beyond, another 120,000 would die from near-term effects of radiation exposure from the initial blast or exposure to radioactive fallout. More once the fallout settled into Lake Meade. A nation, a world mourning. Credit was taken. Blame was assigned. Grief became anger. Anger became resolve. A multi-national military machine propelled inevitably into another fifteen years of war with an enemy who had no army, no territory, no borders…

She bolted upright in bed with a start, body covered in a sheen of sweat.

3am.

 _Shit._

* * *

 **Chloe** turned onto her side half under the sheet to face Max. It was morning, but neither had gotten out of bed yet. Max was awake, but had faint rings under her eyes.

"…it was so real…too real." Max said quietly, finishing a sentence she'd never begun.

"What's up Max?" Chloe asked reaching out to take Max's hand.

"Bad dreams." Max paused. Her eyes searching the wall beyond Chloe.

"How real?"

Her eyes found Chloe. "Like, tornado vision real."

Chloe went up on her elbow, searched Max's face, voice quickened. " _Like_ tornado vision real, or _actually_ tornado vision real? What was it Max? What did you see?"

"Shit. I don't know Chlo. Just a dream. A bomb, a nuke, or something like it, bright flash, fireball, mushroom cloud…destroyed downtown. Here I mean. I saw a date. The 17th. Just over two weeks. I saw everything…Jesus, I could feel the heat from miles away. So many people. I hope it was a dream. Swear this better not be fucking real… Not again."

Chloe sat up. "Shit, Max, I hope it was just a dream too. A _nuke_? That's really specific. And specifically bad. I don't know dude." She was wide awake now. "After Arcadia, I don't think we can afford to just hope with shit like this. Do you?"

"I don't know Chloe. One dream isn't a pattern, right?"

"I mean, what if it _is_ real? You have to tell me _immediately_ if you see it again, okay?"

"Yeah…yeah. Okay." Max rolled onto her back.

"If it's something, we have two weeks. To figure it out, maybe try to stop it."

"How? I don't know anything about bombs. And before we go getting all worked up, it was just a dream Chloe. After the shit we've been through over the past few days, it's not the craziest thing in the world, right?"

"Yeah. No, of course. But I mean, what if it's not? I'm no bomb expert either, but I do know a few things. For example, bombs don't usually occur in nature. So if this vision is about something real, something that might happen, that means that someone or some group is behind the explosion. Not an abstract force of nature, right? And if there are people behind it, they can be found. They can be stopped."

"If we just sit back and wait, let it go off if it's a thing, we'd know for sure. Could work backwards, see who takes credit, jump back with info, right?"

"Maybe. But we should try to sort it out beforehand if we can - it's not just us this time Max. We have friends now."

"Yeah, but it's probably…I mean, total false alarm…"

"But - if it's not… Okay, sure. We don't have any proof, any concrete details beyond what you saw, but that's enough for you to be obviously worried - which is enough for me to be worried. You've been the fucking Oracle before Max. I think we have to trust that. Maybe we run it by Sophie - just see if any of her friends with forward looking abilities are seeing anything? And maybe John, not the whole group, just him, get his advice on what to do, or maybe he can do something? Dude has access to mad resources - the kind that deal with shit exactly like this. We can make some calls this morning. Just two people. We can totally disclaim it. Whatevs."

"Okay. But I don't want to get everyone worried about something that might just turn out to be a bad shrimp dream, you know?"

"I ate the same shrimp you did, and I had a nice dream about…well…you…but whatever. Look, if it's nothing, then it's nothing. No big deal. We'll laugh about it later. I really hope that's the way it goes. False alarm. If it's not though…"

"You're right. I'm sure I'm just holding back cause I don't want to look stupid or waste anyone's time, now that we're officially on the non-scrub list. We just said goodbye like two days ago. Ugh. Sophie first, then John? She should be able to connect and see what I saw. Maybe she can tell the difference between an imaginative dream and something with a chance of being real?"

"How bout I call John and you call Sophie? Two birds with two stones? From two hands? Wait…I'm not sure what that means. I need coffee."

"K. We should get up. And um…what was your dream about me about? I shared mine?"

* * *

 **Michaels** wasn't sure how this was gonna go. It was the morning of the Thanksgiving holiday. He knew Samuel would have plans with his extended family at home, so he was going to try to keep the call brief.

He'd filed his after-action report yesterday, but he expected Samuel to press for solidity in a few areas he'd left intentionally vague. After his debrief with Margaret and conversations with his own team, he'd made the decision to leave a few things out. Not that he didn't trust Samuel. But the reports were distributed pretty wide internally.

It's not that he'd lied in the report exactly. But he wasn't complete with information either. He had rationale. His opinions about her recruitability weren't necessarily facts yet. And he hadn't actually seen her newest capabilities, like stopping bullets in midair, with his own eyes. He didn't believe that the information that flowed through Sophie's link was compromised or altered, but it gave him the wiggle-room he needed to reject reporting 'hearsay', or whatever the word was for second-hand visuals through an un-verified source.

 _Fuck it. Let's get his over with._ He hit the call button.

After a second, Samuel answered, appeared onscreen. Looked like he was in his study. Backdrop was dark wood, bookshelves. Of course. His home office was basically a windowless Faraday cage at the center of his house with a single fiber optic line in for voice and data. He could close the doors, isolate from any local electronic eavesdropping. It was all in the walls. Family didn't have any idea…

"Morning, Michaels. Happy Thanksgiving." Samuel waved once.

"Thanks Samuel. You too. You guys already cooking?"

"Julie was up with the turkey around 6. Everyone should be here by 2. Dinner is at 5. I know you said you have other plans, but if they fall through, you're welcome to stop by. There's more than enough. And we'll be sampling the garage micro-brew after dinner."

"Nice! Thanks - I really do appreciate the offer, and if there's any change, I'm there. I remember her stuffing from a couple of years ago - amazing." Michaels smiled. Her cooking really was good. Not that he actually had plans. But that was kindof a plan too.

"Okay, so let's wrap on Vegas. The attaboys are coming in from all directions on this one John. All the way up. It's a really amazing thing you and the teams managed to pull off. Two Russian talents - Alex Vankin, no less - and no fewer than twenty-eight operatives working on US soil. This is literal gold. A once-in-a-century bust, and everyone knows it. Word is, once our current assignment with Max is done, we can all pretty much write our own tickets from here out."

"That's great to hear. You know, of course. I mean, we all did our thing, but most of this was her. She brought it all to us, locked most of them down herself. She's a force. And this was only our first collaboration with her. I'm not sure the usual rules should apply given the results so far." Michaels shrugged nonchalantly.

"Of course she's special. Unique. That's why we're all lined up behind this entire effort to bring her on. But…reading between the lines in what you say, and what you don't, seems like you're not certain that she's ours?" His look was probing but neutral through the video link.

"I'm confident she's not anyone else's. But no. I'm not entirely convinced she'll join us. Not about us. I'm not convinced that she's a joiner exactly." _Too much info?_

"I've been thinking something similar. When we find new talent, we always have a playbook. We find leverage points, put the screws to them, and they mostly come on board pretty quickly. Usual game. The nature of her gift is a legitimate vexing problem. It's why we've held back. Trying to understand. Build a rapport."

"Well, I think we've done that Sam. I'm not sure how, since it was obviously in another timeline, but she found us in this one. This unprecedented action over the past few days that everyone's so excited about — that was her. She brought it right to us. And it worked out for everyone. I'm just wondering if this might be the right model for working with her?"

"That's not our assignment. Our assignment is to recruit her. Make her part of the family."

"I understand that. But as an outsider, she voluntarily handed over more actionable intel and direct assets than we've captured in the the past thirty years using all of our in-house talents."

"So why risk alienating her?"

"Something like that. If she wants to be a willing cooperative partner, while retaining a _label_ of independence, shouldn't we strongly consider that a potential win?" _And the pitch…_

"What we might consider and what _they_ consider may be very different things."

"But if _they_ 're pragmatists, this should make a lot of sense, Sam."

"I'm not sure _they_ are. _They_ want leverage because it ensures compliance. It's a check not just on affiliation, but continued unquestioned cooperation. Even if that cooperation pushes internal boundaries for the talents. They don't just want a willing volunteer John. They want a talent they can count on. One they can control. One who can't say no."

"To what end? If she's willing to play as an independent, and it benefits us this strongly, why not?"

"Because having her on the playing field as an independent means that she may move in a way that's not helpful or advantageous to us as an organization. Intentionally or accidentally. At some point. On some issue. And since almost no one has the whole picture, it's impossible to predict what that could be. Control is the only way to ensure her movements are in harmony with whatever else is in motion. Too many generals on the battlefield, etc. You know the drill."

"That's a risk, yes. Sam, we've been down some roads together over the years. But I need to ask - can I speak freely and have it stay between you and I? I need a sounding board, and I need to know it's not going to bite me later."

"Yes, of course." Samuel nodded.

"OK. Thanks. I think…the real danger isn't that she might occasionally make moves in the future that are counter to the interests of folks upstairs. I think that's what _they_ 'll worry about, but that's not where shit really hits the fan."

"You're worried about what happens if we try to apply the screws, against your advice, and she turns hostile?"

"Absolutely. Aren't you?" Michaels asked.

"Thought had crossed my mind. Going back to one of our first conversations about her actually. We don't have a playbook for her talent. But at some point, she's going to have to be on the team, or off the team. One or the other. And if it's determined that she's not on the team, this effort will elevate out of our hands. Given the recent Russian haul, none of that should blow back negatively on any of us, if that's what you're worried about. We'll make the best case to her we can, but it's ultimately going to be her choice."

"And if she chooses to stay independent, and _they_ try to force a different outcome, we will have traded a willing ally who can help in ways we've never seen, for a new, powerful enemy unlike anything we've had to face. That's the part I can't get past. There is a win in here if people are willing to be happy with 90% of the way there. If _they_ insist on 100%, I think it could break."

"They're in the business of 100%, John. She's special, yes. But even snowflakes melt under heat. It doesn't change the math for them. If anything, she alters the risk profile significantly I think." Samuel sat back in his chair.

"Is there any way to make the case that _they_ should consider her an exceptional exception? Any audience for Max as an independent contractor?" Michaels leaned forward into the camera, searching Sam's face for any clues, finding none.

"I don't know. I'm not disagreeing with you, by the way. But we all have a role to play, and my role dictates that I consider strongly the point of view that they'll remain inflexible on this core issue. If she joined us willingly, we'd have no need for backup plans and alternate scenarios and protocols. We set all of the think tanks in motion, remember? It's the other half of what we've been doing. But even so, ours isn't the only effort - you know that. Outside teams have been on this from the beginning too. Multiple perspectives, access to the shared data pool. It's how _they_ work. And it's with good reason. Imagine if she got it in her head that the US government was the enemy? Or democracy? Or the internet? Or one of our allies? Hell, even KFC? The damage she could cause tripping around in time? That's their job - to prepare for the worst case."

Michaels withdrew, frustrated. "But it's not _necessary_ Sam. She's right there. She trusts us. She's willing to work together where there's overlap. And I think there's significant overlap. And she'd probably stay out of our way where there's not, as long as she understood how this was in our collective best interest."

"But _they_ don't have time to explain everything to her. _They_ 're above _asking_. Especially in the hopes that she'll go along. Not how _they_ 're used to working, and no reason to change for a little girl. It's how _they_ 'll see it. The math isn't difficult."

"No, I get it. But I don't think outsiders coming in fresh, all swagger and demand, will help things at all. They're not going to react well. I say 'they' cause Chloe's a part of this equation too. Mistrust of authority, combative when pressed, and Max will stand up for her. With her. They influence each other, and if _they_ push these girls, I'm pretty sure these two will push back. And _they_ may not fully appreciate how hard she _can_ push back."

"The outside teams are there for what happens after she refuses. It's necessary. Be honest with yourself - given the order, a reasonable chance of success, and a clean shot, could you put a bullet in the back of her head?" Samuels raised his eyebrows. It wasn't a test.

"It's not necessary. Suicidal maybe. And not a fair question. My job was to build rapport, gain trust, be a friend and ally. And I've done that." Michaels leaned all the way back in his chair, irritated at the way this was going. He hoped Sam would back him on this. It was always a long-shot, but he hoped.

"I know - it's not a fault. That's what your role was. It will be someone else's role to figure out a more coercive way to ensure her compliance, or to take her off the board if need be."

"Sam, between us, I think the independent contractor route is the best case with her, and the best case for _them_. She might surprise me and jump into the family, but I think if pressed, she'll opt to stay on her own."

"And you think that's a fight we'd lose? Really?" Samuel looked surprised.

"I do. I'm a little shocked that you don't?"

"I think you might have lost a little bit of perspective. She's obviously very special. And very powerful. But she's also literally an 18-year-old girl, with all that that implies. Lack of life experience alone makes her more predictable, manageable. Yes, she's unique, but do you really think, honestly now, that she stands a chance against the full weight of state-sponsored efforts to the contrary? The resources that can be brought to bear? Of a nation?"

"I'm not saying it would be pleasant for her. Or trivial to overcome. I'm just saying it seems like a lot of wasted effort for no good reason when we could have her as a willing independent volunteer tomorrow - simply by asking nicely - and accepting that she doesn't _need_ us for anything."

"It's not just a semantic distinction though, is it? The argument is binary. And I notice you didn't answer the question."

"Honestly? I'd have a really hard time betting against her. We'll only ever remember whatever final timeline she lets stand. She's got infinite lives, infinite retries. You'd have to have some kind of intricate fucking trap to outplay those basic architectural operational facts. I think my perspective is right on this one Sam."

"Well, like I said…someone else's problem if it goes that way. I'll try to make the case John. But I'm just a contractor myself. We've got credibility, past and present, but I'm not sure how much good it will do. We're asking a lot here. A lot that _they_ 've never ever done before for anyone. And the asking may accelerate questions and other decisions about her eventual fate. You do realize this, right?"

"I do. And fair enough. I still think it's worth a try…hey Sam - my phone, looks like it's Chloe. I think we've covered the ground we needed to. Unless you have more? Thanks for letting me go off the record a bit. I do appreciate your perspective on all of this."

"Same team, John. We're good. Of course. Take care, and I'll see you on Monday. Let me know if there's anything interesting with your phone call, yeah?"

"Alright. Bye Sam. Have a great holiday."

Michaels disconnected the video link. Chloe's call went to voicemail. Without listening, he hit redial.

* * *

 **Max** knew this was going to be a complicated day for Chloe. Visions or dreams or whatever aside. Thanksgiving used to be a really big deal in the Price household. They hadn't spoken about it much in specific, but Max gathered it changed once William passed away. Even if Chloe didn't think she had much to be thankful for over the subsequent five years, she still had the ritual of it, plus her mom, and the _structure_ of a family to spend it with. But now, even that was gone.

"Hey Max!" Chloe called out from the foyer, voice echoing. "Let's food soon? I'm starving like Marving."

"Marving? Heh. Um…be right there." Funny, Max thought. That was all she could really do for Chloe. Be there. She'd have to remember to call her parents later though. She'd begged off visiting for the holiday. Just felt weird to be celebrating with her family, still intact, still together, when Chloe didn't have…well, it just didn't seem right was all. She knew Chloe would feel welcome, and that the weekend would be fine, but it would just be so in her face all that day. Max had a different plan that was more about quiet, and just them. But she knew her parents would be worried if she didn't call at least.

Max decided to go with jeans and a black t-shirt. And a grey hoodie. And some ironic sneakers. _At least I'm not predictable. But the classics are classics for a reason, right?_

She met Chloe in the foyer. Gave her a casual hug and kiss, then turned away for a selfie with her phone, which Chloe photobombed as usual.

"So what's the plan Maxter?"

Max rolled her eyes. "Breakfast first, yeah? Then I thought we'd head over to the Stratosphere. If that's okay with you? I've never been inside, so I want to see if my dream was rando, or if it's really a match for what I saw. If it's totally different, that will make me feel immediately better, you know?"

"You know the Internet exists, right? I hear they're even allowing pictures on it now!"

"Smartass. But it's different to see it firsthand. Besides, some things might be metaphoric matches without being structural, you know? I just want to see for myself. Humor me? Or I could drop you back if you really don't want to go?"

"No, it's cool. I've wanted to go up to the top for a while now. There's a bungee thing where you can fall from the top to a landing pad on street level. Over a hundred story drop, freefall, straight down. Sick, right?!" Chloe seemed too enthusiastic about this whole 'falling off a building' thing.

"That's one word for it. I'll take pictures from the top while you plummet down to your doom." Max wasn't sure how her powers would react to her intense fear in a free-fall situation. Probably better to test that without loads of witnesses.

"You should take them from the bottom! Catch me coming down, tower in the background?"

"But how do I stop you if the line breaks, you go squish, and I have to rewind?"

"No - that's what I said. You should totally take pictures from the top."

"Right."

"I think they have a restaurant in the observation deck - wanna just go straight there and eat? That way I'll be working on holding down a really fresh breakfast as I dive out into the wild blue?"

"Definitely staying up top in that case. Ew."

* * *

 **Sophie** picked up the message from Max after their plane landed at Heathrow. Only an hour old. Once she and Hector were situated on the tube, she reached out.

 _Hey Max. It's Sophie._

 _Hi Sophie (wave-wave-wave), kinda figured. You're the only one who talks to me from inside my own head. LOL._

 _You're funny. So show me this dream that has you worried._

Max ran her through it.

 _Have you ever seen a real atomic explosion Max?_

 _I remember the ones we saw in history classes. The bombs the US dropped on Japan in World War II. They mostly focused on the aftermath though. The damage on the ground. The stories of the people who survived. It was really sad. I might have seen some of the bigger test ones from the 1960's on Discovery channel or something? I really don't remember._

 _Well, I can't see any memories in your mind that show the effects of a small nuke. That's what your dream was. Something in the 10-15 kiloton range. Small is a relative term, obviously. Still devastating._

 _Holy shit - how do you know about this stuff?_

 _Walking through a crowd is like Wikipedia-on-tape for me. I pick up all sorts of crazy things pretty much all the time. Plus, we travel a lot. Do you know what the pin that sits in the gunwale of a boat under the fulcrum ring for an oar is called? It's a 'thole'. Which is coincidentally one of the oldest words in the English language, in noun and unrelated verb form. Don't ever challenge me to a game of Trivial Pursuit. I'm a treasure trove of uselessness all up in here. :)_

 _Well, I'll know who to secretly call for help if I ever get invited to a game. Not that that's likely._ :| _Okay, so rewind…I mean…back up? You're saying that what I saw might be something real?_

 _As far as I can tell, you've never seen anything quite like that outside your own head. Doesn't mean you couldn't imagine it on your own though. You might have simply scaled down a bigger explosion you saw in a movie or show at some point. Imagination is the most amazing thing once you truly see it at work. But the first part, the tower - that turned out to be mostly accurate I see. You're eating breakfast there? Wow. Those pancakes really are delicious, aren't they?_

 _Yeah. I'm a little worried. Hey - what the hell? You can taste what I'm eating? I'm so not sure how I feel about that. Sigh. Well, sharing is caring I guess? Weird though. Oh - Chloe's here with me. She wants to pop in to say hello, if that's possible?_

 _Sure. Hello, Chloe._

 _"Sup Sophie? What are you guys up to? Hey Max!_

 _I'm sitting right across from you Chloe._ Max threw her arms up in surrender. _The dork is strong in you._

 _Hehe. You two. Hector and I just landed in England. Serious note. One of the unaffiliated talents, a contact of one of my contacts, was discovered and picked up by the British government two days ago. Some of our group have asked us to try to find out where he's being held, what the schedule of his movements might be, so a rescue attempt might be made by others._

 _Woah. That's some super-spy shit right there. Wait - I thought you could read people over a distance though? Why are you all the way over there?_ Sophie could feel Chloe's confusion, and saw it on her face through Max's eyes.

 _I can only connect with people I've touched before. For new people, guards, handlers, others who might know where he is, I have to be in the same area to pick them up the first time. So we're starting with a few in the center of government, trying to figure out where he might be, then we'll go there and try to figure out who might work in the building, and so on. Should only take a couple of days. I've never met with him before personally, so I can't connect directly to ask him where he is. This kind of searching is something we do from time to time. It's not very dangerous. We just blend in. Lots of cafes. Too much espresso. Play the tourists. Others will try to get him out if we can find anything useful._

 _Wow Sophie. I didn't realize you guys did this sort of thing. I shouldn't be bugging you with my dream. It seems a little trivial in comparison._

 _Only if it's just a dream - and even then, it's important enough to have you worried, so the triviality fades quickly. It's interesting timing though. The man we're trying to find is a precog. I guess his sweet spot is seeing things a few days in advance. So if we can get to him, I'll ask. He may be able to tell us if it's just a dream or something more? I'll ask a few others around the network today as well, of course. I'll keep you posted if I learn anything one way or the other._

 _Thanks Sophie. I'm not sure there's anything we could do, but if you need help, you know you can just ask. Given the British government angle, we prolly shouldn't ask John or his friends for help with your mission though. Chloe chatted with him this morning about the dream. He's putting out some feelers, looking for any missing nuclear material, persons of interest traveling into the area and so on._

 _Thank you Max. I know. :)_

 _Hey! No emoji!_

 _Chloe - seriously?_

 _Reflex. Sorry. :(_

 _Aha!_

 _Hey! I didn't do that on purpose. It just kinda happened._

 _Yeah yeah… I own you on this one Price. You totally think in Emojis. Bwahahaha._ :D

 _Do not._

 _Do to. I totally saw it._

 _Did not._

 _And on that note… I should be going. We're nearing our stop._

 _Sorry Sophie. This…goes back to childhood, I'm sure. We can carry on here on our own._

 _It's okay. I'm not cutting off because I'm bothered. I think it's cute when you two get going like this. The closeness, the shared history, it's all a warm and pleasant experience for me. I was taken from my home, my family, my friends when I was 12. So I've missed out on that connection across time to…well, anyone, really. But I can experience most things through others, so it's not completely gone I suppose. We're getting off the train now. You two behave. I'll check in later tonight your time to see how things are going._

 _That breaks my heart Sophie. I didn't know. We're here if you need (weird) friends. Well, technically we're here regardless, but…you know what I mean._

 _Seconded dude. Hector too. You guys more than earned it._

 _Thanks. Both of you. Means a lot._

 _Stay safe Sophie. And tell Hector we said 'hi' and stuff._

 _Yeah - laters._

 _Bye for now. I'll check in again._

Sophie disconnected the links. Hector was leading her through a crowded hub between lines, toward the surface. Charing Cross. He sensed that she was fully here, let go of her arm. They both knew he didn't have to do that. Let go. But she understood. It was symbolic to him in a way it wasn't for her. It was about mutual balance, lines, respect, and understanding. An empath, in love with a telepath who didn't feel the same. An impossible situation, but somehow they made it work. They cared for each other, and that was where they met. The rest was just a matter of degree.

So many people here. So many secrets. Thoughts. Hopes. Feelings. So much alone everywhere.

"They've put us up on Northumberland, just off Trafalgar. Around the corner, once we're out. Puts us half a mile from the Palace of Westminster" said Hector. "Someone, somewhere in Parliament should know something we can use."

 _His mind was always on the present. Or at least, five seconds ahead of the present_ , she thought.

"Near enough. Might not all be around tomorrow. But the bureaucrats will be. Many of the people who know things work within a mile or two of here in any event, so let's check in, get some food, and sleep off the jet lag? Tomorrow, we'll meet for breakfast downstairs, then go 'sightseeing'?"

They rode the long escalator up in silence. Emerged into the evening air for a short walk to the hotel. She'd never been there, but many minds around her had. The English breakfast in the restaurant was apparently a local favorite. _Have to give that a go then._

* * *

 **Chloe** managed to keep her breakfast down. But only just barely. "Dude! Shit, that was seriously amazeballs! You _have_ to try it!"

"I'm really glad you had fun." Max smiled, shaking her head.

"Chicken."

"I accept that. If man were meant to fall, we would have been given… something that helps us fall, I guess?"

"Bok. Bok." Chloe made chicken wings with her arms.

"Shut up! If something went wrong with your jump, you know I'd rewind and warn you or fix it or whatever. Something goes wrong with my jump, I'd rewind myself right out of the harness fifty-stories up. Splat. Flat chicken."

"Bok."

"Bok, indeed."

"Alright, alright. What next Max? It's a nice day. My adrenaline is flowing. We should go for a drive. We haven't been to the Hoover Dam yet?"

"I don't think they'll let you jump off it, if that's what you're thinking."

"Not like they could stop me!"

"Wow. You _are_ full of energy today. Okay. A drive then. We should get drinks and road snacks first though."

"You're right. We don't want to starve - it's been nearly a half hour since we've eaten that giant-ass meal, and it's a whole 45-minute drive from here if we go the speed limit. Which we won't, by the way."

"Yeah, but you never know. We might get a flat. Or stuck in traffic. Better to have fluids and snacks and not need them, than need fluids and snacks and not have them." Max gave the universal short sharp nod of the prepared.

"You are such a Girlscout."

"If we were in Sophie's head, I'd totally send you a tongue-sticking-out emoji right now."

"Max - I'm looking right at you. You can actually stick your real tongue out at me. Like in person. I'd probably understand what you meant."

"Whatever. I'm totally not texting with you right now." Max tilted her head up, folded her arms and looked away in an exaggerated huff.

"Cause we're talking? Nevermind. Fine. Snacks first."

* * *

 **Max** held her phone at arm's length, snapped a picture of the two of them. The lake stretching off in the background. Lighting on their faces was perfect. They were both smiling, heads together. Sunglasses. Blue lake. Blue sky. It was a really cute shot.

They'd arrived at the dam mostly without incident.

They were doing 140 miles per hour when they passed the highway patrol officer, radar gun out. If Chloe had been cool, they probably would have gotten away with just a ridiculously expensive ticket. But she went a different way. Nothing violent or too stupid, just a little mouthy. The cop was well within her rights to impound the car. In addition to writing them a ridiculously expensive speeding ticket.

When it was clear they weren't going to make the dam on their present course, Max grabbed a bottle of water and some string cheese, sat down by the side of the road in the shade of a sign and rewound. Chloe drove up fifteen minutes later, closer to the speed limit.

After taking the photo, they hung out for a bit, took the tour of the inside and learned all about hydroelectric power generation. It was late afternoon when they had their fill of the dam life, and decided to drive back.

"So if there's ever a zombie apocalypse, we should head there for sure." Chloe said knowingly, checking her mirrors.

"Why would we have to go there though? The lights will be on everywhere, as long as the dam continues to run." Max thought it was nice inside and all, but more like a subway station than a home.

"Yeah, but you heard them - the mussels. They'll take the cooling system offline within months to a couple of years. Then it's no more lights." Chloe made 'poof' motions with her hands. Which made Max a little nervous, seeing as how Chloe was driving.

"So wait - your solution to the zombie apocalypse is to move to Hoover dam and what? Teach ourselves to scuba dive so we can clean mussels off of grates so the power stays on in three states?" Max was cracking up.

"Yep."

"You realize we could just break into a hardware store and take a generator, right? Gas will be everywhere. We can just light up where we are?"

"Yeah. No, you're right. But you're missing out on the romance aspect of it. The two of us, keeping the lights of civilization burning through daily aquatic maintenance? No?" Chloe was laughing at herself at this point.

"You are so weird. We could just move onto a boat, parked a few dozen feet from the edge of the land. It's not like zombies can swim or anything."

"But do they float? Would the decaying bodies form a bridge for the other zombies to walk over? Like ants?"

"So a hundred feet from shore?"

Chloe shook her head. "I've got it. We move into a normal house in the burbs, but somewhere near a couple of gyms with lots of treadmills. We steal a moving truck, dollies, and a bunch of electrical wiring. I'll figure out how to rewire treadmills into generators, then we line them up, open side out, in a tight ring around the house."

"How big is the house? How wide are the treadmills? How many are we talking here?" asked Max.

"Shit - I don't know. Make it a smallish house. Square. Call it twenty treadmills per side?"

"So eighty treadmills total? Check."

"Then when the zombies try to get us, they step on the treadmills, shamble forward, and start making electricity to power the house!"

"Your evil genius is beyond words, Price. There's our plan. Done."

"Yay! Solved. Okay, so what do we do if there's a giant meteor?"

The sun slipped just below the mountains before they arrived back at their hotel. They'd kept the five-floor buffer in place below, and had added to their own security staff. As they walked from the elevator to their suite, two men and a woman in white walked out of the room carrying bags.

"What's up?" Chloe asked. "Who were they?"

"We were going to be gone all day, so I thought…well, let's just go in. You'll see. Hope it's okay?"

The lights inside were all on, but dimmed, showing off the sunset and city lights. A few candles were lit on the dining table, two places set next to each other on the same side of the table. Serving dishes were covered under silver domes, but the smell of lasagna was unmistakable.

"You're so cute. What did you do Max?"

"Just arranged for dinner to be here when we got home. I didn't want to make a big deal, but I figured this is our first Thanksgiving together, I mean _together_ together, and as adults…such as we are…and maybe it's time to make some new traditions? I don't know - I hope you don't mind? We can do something else if you want."

"I love it. It's…perfect." Chloe pulled Max into a hug, held her there for a minute before walking them over to the table, pulling Max's chair out, and motioning gallantly for her to sit.

Max could see that Chloe's eyes had watered up a little as she sat next to her. Chloe reached to pull the covers off the dishes, smile on her face. _Complicated day for her. But hopefully ending on a simple note will help._ It was what she could do. Be there. She was the only family Chloe had now.

Lasagna. Garlic bread. Green beans. Vanilla gelato for desert. Simple. Delicious. Acknowledging the holiday, while moving it forward. Tradition, but theirs now. It wouldn't always be lasagna, but it would always be them.

Later, after a lovely relaxed dinner together, Chloe fell asleep on Max on the sofa. Max suggested chill movie night. Chloe insisted on Blade Runner. Max didn't have the heart to refuse.

She teased her fingers gently through Chloe's variegated blue hair as she slept. No ventilator. No tubes. Just her.

 _My sweet girl._

* * *

 **Max** woke up to a voice in her head.

 _Max? Are you awake? Max?_

 _Sophie?_ It was early. She and Chloe were still tangled on the sofa together. The sky was lighter than dark, but the sun wasn't yet up.

 _I'm so sorry to wake you Max. I sometimes forget about time difference. Is that offer of help still good?_


	17. Amazeballs

**Max** checked the clock across the open terminal as she walked out of the gate. _Hey Heathrow._ It was after 4pm local time. She'd boarded her flight at 11pm the night before. _Almost a whole day lost in the air._ At least she'd been able to sleep on the plane. While she didn't think jet lag was any different from normal time-hopping, the dehydration of air travel was real. She stopped at a small airport retail kiosk for some road snacks and water before heading outside. She followed the signs to the coach boarding area and found her bus.

Chloe stayed behind in Vegas at her own insistence. She'd been happy to help with research and travel prep the day before, but didn't want to get in the way or otherwise be a complication during the rescue operation. Her argument was that this was work, not play, and Max would only be gone a couple of days. Max still wished she'd come along. They could have taken an extra day or two to visit Paris. Another time, when it's play, not work. _Sadface._

Max was meeting up with Sophie and Hector three hours ago at a pub in the Brighton Marina. _Time to go._ She hopped on the bus for the two-hour trip south.

The weather outside the coach was an endless grey drizzle, water running sideways on the glass. Max was more focused on how green everything was though. Not just that it was green in general, but the specific color of green, the quality of it, was so different from anything she'd seen. She first noticed it from the air before landing, but it just didn't stop. Washington and Oregon had tons of green and plants and life too. But mostly in the form of pine forests, ferns in dark undergrowth, banana slugs wandering. They were a mix of brown and shadow and a darker sort of green - still pretty, but not like this. Everything planty outside felt alive with an almost inner glow, a bright, vibrant sort of green within the green. Beyond Kermit green. Maybe even beyond Limecat green… _Supergreen! Ruby Rhod? No?_

 _Getting punchy._ She decided to call Chloe.

"Hey love - I'm here."

"Max! Dude, I was just thinking about you. Not that I'm not always anyway, but you know what I mean."

Max smiled at the sound of Chloe's voice. It was stupid. She'd been away for less than a day, but whatevs. As cliché and on point as it was, she still got butterflies thinking about her. "I know. Me too. Miss you."

"Me too. So much that I apparently ordered you breakfast this morning, cause I'm a dumbass. So now I have two plates of waffles coming up. Sure you don't want to teleport back? Extra waffles?"

"Nom. I wish. There's no such thing as 'extra waffles' by the way. Only waffles you haven't eaten yet. I had some chips…sorry, crisps…have to get used to English English. Anyway, I had some crisps a half hour ago, but it's not doing it for me. And I don't get there for another hour at least. I would so teleport back to you for delicious warm waffles right now."

"Just for the waffles?"

"Well, maybe not _just_ for the waffles. The chocolate chip pancakes from downstairs are yummy too."

"You suck Caulfield."

"I know. Insert tongue sticking out emoji here. I wish you'd come with me though. It's dismal and rainy and dark and I know you'd love it. Especially after months in Vegas - it's like my eyes totally forgot how to see colors like this. I'll send you some pics." _You could have been sitting next to me and we could have been seeing all of this together…_

"You better. But you know, when we go to Europe together for the first time, it sure as shit won't be for a mission. It's gonna be a kickass all party vacation, and we're going to see shit, and go places, and eat stuff, then there's Amsterdam and Paris and the fucking Autobahn at a million miles an hour, and maybe Ibiza, and double back to Amsterdam, cause…Amsterdam…and it's gonna be so badass."

"It sounds like you've given this some thought?" Max smiled, leaned her head against the glass, enjoying Chloe's ridiculous enthusiasms.

"You can turn paintings upside down in the Louvre, I can dress you up in Lederhosen while we rave, we can eat Belgian waffles in Belgium - they do make waffles there, right? Or do they call them Hollish waffles or some stupid crap like that? Like French fries in France? Wait…are the Hollish a people? Holland, Hollish? No? Anyway, it will be _so_ much awesome!"

"I can't wait Chloe. We should come back in spring. Flowers and birds and other stuff that's not flowers or birds…" _Eloquent much?_

"Yeah. I know. I…really should have come with you. I know what I was thinking, but I really don't know what I was thinking."

"If only _you_ could teleport here now." _Chloe would be dangerous if she could teleport for real. I can't even begin to describe the trouble she'd get us into…_

"Have you ever tried?"

"Huh? What?"

"Teleporting?"

"No?"

"Well, I mean, you kinda do it every time you rewind or photo jump right? Except you're not just jumping from one place to another in the same time, you're jumping from one time and place to another time and place. When I say it like that, just going from one place to another sounds easier. Or at least as easy?"

"I don't think it works like that Chloe. But let's add it to the list of experiments we need to try? I was in Vankin's mind when he jumped, so I get how he did it. Even if I don't have the same kind of powers."

"Fine. It's sad, really. I want you here, and these waffles aren't going to eat themselves."

"It _is_ sad. But at least they'll be friends in your belly?"

"Sadly true, I'm sure. Hey Max - I've got John on the other line. Call me when you're out and on your way back, yeah?"

"I will."

"Love you dudette!"

"Love you too Chlo." Max laughed.

"Bye."

"Bye."

Max felt sad thinking about the lonely waffle. She hoped Chloe would eat it. _Friends should stay together._ Hopefully John had some kind of news? Or hopefully not, depending on the news he did or didn't have?

The coach drove on for another hour or so before pulling through Brighton.

The stop was across a roundabout from the pier, so after exiting, she crossed, and walked down toward the sea. She saw two grey squirrels on her way to the beach. _Hey squirrels. Such bushy tails! So cute!_ She missed them. There weren't really squirrels in the desert. Once they were finished with the new building, Max was definitely making one floor of one wing a squirrel retreat. Live plantings, semi-wild environment indoors with a stream. Plus, squirrels. _What's the point of being a time traveling billionaire if I can't build a simple little squirrel terrarium? Sheesh._

She noticed palms on the walk down. _You guys must be so lost and cold here._ The sun was beyond the horizon to the west as the December evening faded into darkness. While poking around on the innerwebs with Chloe, they'd watched more than a few videos of Brighton in summer. It looked like fun. But there was something nice about walking at night on a pebbly beach in winter. Very different from Venice Beach in California. This felt older. More moody - at least at present. Cold. But the regular swish of the waves was comforting somehow. _Always at the edge of a deep green sea._

It was only a mile or so down the beach to the marina. She set out, pier at her back. She cut back up to the road as she neared. The pub was in a smaller retail area further along the strand, near the center. She passed the larger retail entertainment section to get there. She saw a few birds chilling on boats over still dark waters, and could feel the cool salty air on her face. Once she got to the pub, she went in, walked into the restroom and stood in front of one of the sinks. _Splash some water on mah face? Too old school_. _Heh._ She rewound back to the meeting time.

* * *

 **Sophie** knew it was coming up on 1pm - someone in any crowd was always sure of the time, so she was too. _Max should be here any moment._ A few minutes later, she could feel her pop into existence somewhere close. Max walked out of the loo, sat down next to Hector in the booth, across from Sophie.

"You are the world's most punctual time traveler Max." said Sophie.

Hector smiled, picking up a menu. "I like the way you think Max."

Max responded to Sophie. "I try. Should we eat first?"

Hector handed her the menu.

Max caught up to what just happened. "That has got to be the weirdest feeling in the world. I have no idea how you keep everything straight."

"I mostly don't. Just get used to it I guess." he said.

They ordered. Max went with standard fish & chips and a soda. Classics. Sophie got the same, Hector ordered a shepherd's pie.

They linked up through Sophie to talk privately while they ate in silence.

Sophie went first. _After we talked yesterday, we did some additional snooping, and found the exact cell where Tom is being held._ She showed Max the building, small back alley entrance, the access codes to the elevator down, the floor, the layout of the inside, the master controls for the cell door system, and the path from Tom's cell back to the entrance and on to the car park. As well as the locations of most of the personnel inside.

 _Why the hell does something like this exist under a bowling alley in a marina?_ Max thought.

 _Apparently, these types of facilities are everywhere in one form or another. Mostly unoccupied, unused. Unnoticed utility doors in public spaces allow people to come and go without notice. Like safe-houses on steroids, they're there when needed for any reason. This one is slightly more extensive underground, build in the 1970's, and often used as a covert entry point into the country. Location near the harbor makes perfect sense._

 _In my experience, only assholes have bunkers,_ Max thought.

They went over the plan a final time, simple as it was. Max was the only one who could extract him in this way. It's why they asked for her help. There were other ways, of course, but they mostly involved more direct confrontation, on the road during a transfer to a new location, enemy escorts, radios, backup, and other complications that meant people on both sides would most likely get hurt. Max would be in and out in minutes. Like a ninja. But with zip ties.

Sophie and Hector would wait in the parking lot beyond the movie house for Max and Tom. Max would make her way back to the airport on her own while Sophie, Hector and Tom drove away to wherever. It would probably be hours before any sort of alarm was raised, and they'd all be long gone by then.

That was the plan.

* * *

 **Max** took the bag of goodies from Hector. She put it in her messenger bag, then paid the pub bill with cash. They split into two groups for the next phase. Max checked the time. It was just after 2pm.

The flight she was on wasn't going to land for another couple of hours. As she walked, she wondered if anyone had noticed when she vanished off the plane mid-flight. Probably not. Back to the present. Brick walkway underfoot. Seabirds creaking at each other in those high voices. They were louder in the daytime. Crabs skittled over dark green rocks underwater.

She approached the building complex. Three large structures on one side, one across the road. Her target was behind the middle building on the left. She took a left at the fast food restaurant and a right onto the small access road behind the casino, and one building further to the bowling alley. Far side, plain door, painted beige to blend in with the walls, security plate over the gap between the knob and the jam. Locked.

She slowed the world, hit the knob from the front lightly with her palm. The metal sheared and the whole mechanism exploded inward from the sudden force, carrying the lock innards with it. She returned to the normal flow of the world. She couldn't hear any alarms, but assumed they had to be going off somewhere.

She pulled the unlatched door open, walked in, went down the dark narrow hallway, and rewound to before the break-in. There was an unmarked door at the end of the hallway. Looked like a normal basement loading lift. She hit the button. A muted ding as the door opened and she walked in. Her fingers pushed the top of the metal plate marked 'emergency phone', and it swung up to reveal a standard telephone numeric keypad. She dialed in the code Sophie had stolen from the mind of some worker or another, and the elevator hummed to life.

It was hard to tell how quickly the elevator was dropping, but she knew Tom was down about twenty stories underground. Below, she could expect to find a cramped complex of living, dining and restroom facilities. As well as locked doors opening to hallways of solid cell doors.

She waited until the elevator doors were open before she froze time. White walls, rough paint. The walls looked beat up. Black glossy trim around the doors. Terrible paintings of shrubs. Like a 1950's underground bunker, even though she knew it was more recent. She could see four people, but knew there were at least three others inside out of view. She carefully taped over their mouths, placed hoods gently over their heads, slowing, starting and stopping time until she was able to move their limbs into place for binding with zip ties, without breaking anyone in the process.

She went room by room, starting, stopping as needed to interact with doors, until she'd explored the space, secured every loose agent. Only a few seconds of real-time had passed as she exited freeze, opened the door to the cell wing. 'Wing' was generous. It was maybe a twelve-foot hallway with three gloss black locked doors off of it. More like a narrow residential hall with the bedrooms shut. Dark. She found the master control on the inside wall, flipped it. Two cells were empty. Tom was in the third, ready to leave. Precog. Of course he was ready.

He was tall, greying. Must have been in his late fifties or early sixties? He looked like an active-lifestyle grandfather from a late night infomercial for home gym equipment. "Tom." She said. Not much of an assumption.

"Max." he replied. He'd obviously learned it at some point in the future.

"If you'll follow me, we have a car waiting." She turned, led him back to the elevator.

As they were ascending, he said "You're going to ask, if I've had any sort of knowledge about a bomb in Las Vegas. I haven't seen anything. Your date is still too far outside my viewing range. Once we get closer, I should be able to get an answer to you."

"Thanks Tom - I appreciate it." she said. _Damn. If Sophie had learned anything from her extended network, she would have said. So that might be good right? Might just be a dream._ She felt better for a moment, until the doubt crept back in.

She walked Tom out through the exterior door, around the corner and past the cinema to the parking lot where Hector and Sophie sat in their rental. With Tom safely buckled in the back seat, they said their goodbyes, and drove off.

Max began her solo walk back up the beach to the coach station for the return trip. As much as she wanted to linger here, she knew she couldn't.

 _This was way too simple. At least for me. I can see how it could have gone bad in a head-on assault with normal people. Still, this was a long trip for such a short mission. Better than the alternative I guess. It's over, Tom's out, and no one got hurt. Time to head back home to Chloe._

Next coach was in half an hour. The one that dropped her off wouldn't arrive for another couple of hours. Although her plane should be landing about now. Like China all over again. The journey time erased, the destination's the only thing now.

* * *

 **Michaels** wasn't entirely sure why he'd been called in, although he had his suspicions. It was Saturday morning. His talk with Samuel was only two days ago. And he'd just found out from Chloe that Max was out of the country.

He rounded the corner, through the door onto the ops floor. He didn't recognize anyone. _Shit. That's not good._

Well, almost anyone. A few of the DOD guys were still in back. And Samuel was in his office on the other side of the floor talking with another man who looked familiar, but Michaels couldn't place him. Sam didn't look happy. He saw Michaels, motioned for him to come over.

He walked in.

"John, thanks for coming in this morning on short notice. This is Roland Stirling. He's the Chief Operating Officer of Hayden Dynamics. They've just bought out Exparity and the rest of the outstanding contracts, so they'll be stepping in to replace all of us, effective today. Group's disbanded. Roland's firm has been shadowing all of our efforts in parallel, so they're up to speed. They've had their own independent think tank and focus group efforts going alongside ours as well. Our outside assets are now theirs. Just business."

"Nice to meet you Roland." John put out his hand.

"Mr. Stirling, please. And it's nice to meet you too John." Roland gave his hand a firm shake before withdrawing.

Michael noted the manicure. The lack of calluses. Slightly orange skin. The tailored suit. The red silken flash of fashionable tie and matching pocket square. The slicked hair. He was pretty sure that the bottoms of his shoes were shined and spotless. He looked to be just under forty. His mouth smiled wide but without feeling - his eyes were eagle sharp. _This guy's not an operator. He's a climber. Politician._

Roland continued. "We'll need your encryption protocols and access card before you leave this morning. You'll be paid through the end of your six-month term, but for obvious reasons we'll need you to cease any and all contact with the targets. Nondisclosures continue until death, as usual. Sorry to bring you in on a Saturday, but we've learned that the Caulfield girl is out of the country, and we need to get any information you have before we formally part company."

"Of course. I've probably been the closest to Max, at least on our team. She might not react well if I just go dark. Should I make introductions to my replacement? Try to help him or her make a smooth landing?"

"That won't be necessary. Our operating protocols for Ms. Caulfield and Ms. Price are taking a new direction. Your continued involvement won't be beneficial. But if there's anything you can tell us about Max's current whereabouts or activities, it would make the weekend ramp-up smoother for our people." _There was that creepy smile again. Not anchored in anything._

Roland - Michaels refused to think of him as 'Mr. Stirling' - was an obvious jackass. _Possibly a high functioning sociopath._ Michaels had known a few. Some were okay guys who worked to overcome it. But it was hard to tell from only a few minutes' exposure, if they were really good mimics.

 _Sam's pitch to keep Max independent must have fallen flat with the people upstairs. But it looked like he was out along with everyone else. Shit._ It was a surprise that it happened this quickly, but this type of changeover was always a possibility. Didn't mean it was going to end well. But there wasn't much he could do. At least not yet.

He wouldn't be able to talk to Max or Chloe through any visible channels - all communications monitored. His too now. They wouldn't take any chances. There was still Sophie. Maybe he could get a warning to them through her; let them know that the game was about to change. He didn't know how it would change, exactly, but it would probably be unpleasant if this douche was in charge. Since the contractor pitch failed, they'd be moving on to the coercion playbook. He'd been conflicted before, but now he needed Max and Chloe to know that no one on his team had a part in whatever was coming next.

John responded after a brief pause, "No, I don't know about Max. Chloe mentioned she was gone, but didn't say much more. I'm sure you all can run her down. Would have taken us minutes with this net in place."

"Why were you in contact with Ms. Price on personal time?"

"I called her this morning to follow up on something. Max had a dream a few days ago about a potential terror attack in Vegas within the next couple of weeks. Call logs are all there for your analysts, but long story short, we were running down a few basic checks against the IAEA, TSA, DHS, FBI, NSA and others looking for any recent nuclear material thefts, watchlist types migrating to the Nevada desert, that sort of thing."

"Chicken chase. Right off mission… No wonder. There are dozens of thefts of nuclear materials around the world every year. Enough in play to make dozens of small bombs. Not news. We'll let the professionals in place do their jobs. Our mandate here is clear and narrow. I'm starting to see why your team hit a wall Sam. Too…cozy. Unfocused."

Michaels noticed the box next to Sam. A few things from his desk. He was minimal, so it was a small box. But he was definitely out with the rest. He could see him biting his tongue as Roland prattled on about failures. This was going nowhere.

"If there's nothing else, I'll be heading out. Sam, catch up with you later."

"Sure thing John. I'm a few minutes behind you."

John didn't bother doing the goodbye dance. This was just a transaction for Roland. John dropped his card and code token with the floor supervisor, and was escorted down and out of the building by an observer. He wouldn't be allowed back in. Protocol.

As he headed for the parking garage, he searched for a reason to talk to Sam in the next few days. Pop over for a garage beer, maybe wander into his study. That room would be almost as private as Sophie's mind. At least to eavesdropping. Max and Chloe aside, if there was a nuke out there, they had a responsibility to try to be helpful. All of them, Michaels, Sam, his teams, they'd all taken oaths to protect and defend the people at one point in their careers. Even if they weren't active military anymore, he didn't recall anything in those oaths about an expiration date. He couldn't turn it off, at least. Not with something like this out there. To someone like Roland, well, he'd obviously taken a different path.

And yes, there were lots of professionals doing their jobs. Roland was right about that. But none of them had access to the special talents, resources or information that they'd had until a few minutes ago. And none of the professionals had put a date to an attack. Max did.

He was off contract now, but that was just a paycheck. Most of his crew would work for _them_ on something else at some future point. It was a small community, after all. But for now, they were all free agents. And if there was a nuke inbound, that was their number one priority. He knew his teams. They'd be right there with him. And if it stepped on Roland's operation, they'd deal with it. Would still go better if they had a sponsor. Official sanction and resources.

He and Samuel each had their own networks. Fans upstairs. Sideways. The recent Russian captures had only made more. They still had their own tickets to write, regardless of what Roland thought about things. Michaels was convinced that they had to chase this down. He had a few more calls to make when he got home.

There was also Max. There might still be a way to pull this out of the fire. He knew that his way, equal partners, would work. But if that was off the table, there was only one other. He laughed to himself as he pulled out of the garage. Worst case, he'd join a few of his guys and put in a resume. She'd probably be running the whole show in six months.

 _And Hayden Dynamics? Who even comes up with these names?_

* * *

 **Max** was seated toward the back of the coach, next to the window again. This one was crowded. She looked at her phone. The clock said it was 4:30pm on the dot. Time to call Chloe.

"Hey love - I'm heading back."

"Max! Dude, I was just thinking about you. Not that I'm not always anyway, but you know what I mean."

Max didn't care if this was a word for word repeat of their last conversation. It had been erased when she rewound in the pub restroom anyway, and she really just wanted to hear Chloe's voice. "I know. Me too. Miss you."

"Me too. So much that I apparently ordered you breakfast this morning, cause I'm a dumbass. So now I have two plates of waffles coming up. Sure you don't want to teleport back? Extra waffles?"

"I wish. No such thing as 'extra waffles' by the way. Only waffles you haven't eaten yet. I had some fish and chips a couple of hours ago. So good. But I don't get to the airport for another hour at least. I would so teleport back to you for delicious warm waffles right now."

"Just for the waffles?"

"Well, maybe not _just_ for the waffles. The chocolate chip pancakes from downstairs are pretty good too."

"You suck Caulfield."

"I know. I wish you'd come with me though. It's dark and rainy and cold and I know you'd love it. Especially after months in Vegas - colors are different here. I'll send you some pics." _If I'd remembered to take any. Shit. I need to take some before we get back._

"You better. But you know, when we go to Europe together for the first time, it sure as shit won't be for a mission. It's gonna be a kickass all party vacation, and we're going to see shit, and go places, and eat stuff, then there's Amsterdam and Paris and the fucking Autobahn at a million miles an hour, and maybe Ibiza, and double back to Amsterdam, cause…Amsterdam…and it's gonna be so badass."

"You've given this some thought?" Max smiled, leaned her head against the glass, enjoying the sound of her.

"You can turn paintings upside down in the Louvre, I can dress you up in Lederhosen while we rave, we can eat Belgian waffles in Belgium - they do make waffles there, right? Or do they call them Hollish waffles or some stupid crap like that? Like French fries in France? Wait…are the Hollish a people? Holland, Hollish? No? Anyway, it will be _so_ much awesome!"

"I can't wait Chloe. Spring, okay? For reals. I have a few places I want to take you too. Less party, more history and art and nature and beauty. Don't worry - we'll do the party thing too." _That was better._

"Yeah. I know. I…really should have come with you. I know what I was thinking, but I really don't know what I was thinking."

"If only _you_ could teleport here now." _Then you could join me on my journey back to…you. Wait…_

"Have you ever tried?"

"Teleporting?"

"Yeah."

"Nope." Max knew she could have said more, but that wouldn't be fair to Chloe. They'd had this conversation, but she didn't want it to change.

"Well, I mean, you kinda do it every time you rewind or photo jump right? Except you're not just jumping from one place to another in the same time, you're jumping from one time and place to another time and place. When I say it like that, just going from one place to another sounds easier. Or at least as easy?"

"I don't think it works like that Chloe. But let's add it to our list of experiments? I was in Vankin's mind when he jumped, so I get how he did it. Even if I don't have the same powers."

"Fine. It's sad, really. I want you here, and these waffles aren't going to eat themselves."

"It _is_ sad. But at least they'll be friends in your belly?" _John's call should be up in a sec. Time to say goodbye for now._

"Sadly true, I'm sure. Hey Max - I've got John on the other line. Call me when you land, yeah?"

"I will."

"Love you dudette!"

"Love you too Chloe." Max laughed.

"Bye."

"Bye."

She still didn't know what John had to say. She could have waited, but it was a moment in time. And she wanted Chloe to remember it like she did. She wasn't trying to manage Chloe's experiences, but she didn't want mission time to erase shared memories either.

* * *

 **Roland** had been slowly pacing the ops floor for twenty minutes. Not the pacing of the impatient or the worried. The pacing of a tiger circling prey.

They knew Max boarded a flight to London. It didn't appear that she was on the plane when it landed. Which left counter-clockwise as the only explanation. His ops team was twice the headcount of Samuel's. A well-oiled, disciplined and well prepared machine, hand-picked - and they had benefit of additional months of shadowing, intel development, protocol development and related planning. They also had practice with the patterns of time travel, and no illusions about the dangers she posed.

They were reviewing tower pings in the UK going back a few hours to see if they could draw a map of Max's travels. They had her the whole time, of course. This was an exercise with a known path. Roland was fond of drills and exercises.

The screen ahead lit up with a map of southern England. _Less than a minute._ The pings started in Brighton around 1pm GMT, lingered for a couple of hours, and were now halfway to London at highway speeds. 4:45pm GMT.

"Nicely done everyone. Okay - listen up. Everyone. Eyes up. Thanks. All your hard work and prep has come down to this moment." He paused for dramatic effect. "Gloves are off. Time to get this show moving." He did a little fist pump to kick things off.

Command given, the room exploded to life with noise and energy as interlinking plans were finally set into motion.

"Let's make life more interesting for Ms. Caulfield and friends, shall we?" Roland said quietly to no one in particular. The machine was already moving. His order set tens of thousands of workers across thirty corporations, half a dozen contract firms, dozens of federal and allied agencies and hundreds of automated systems into motion - spread across three continents. The machine was moving. Roland was one of a few dozen people who knew where it was really headed.

 _Like a tiger._ He enjoyed it for its own sake. But he also had ambitions.

He glanced over to one of his aides. "Sarah, don't forget to call our London office, have them relay that the subjects are clear of the Brighton Tank? The Ministry might want to check on their people."

With that, he walked back into his office, poured himself a drink. _Two weeks._

* * *

 **Max** was getting a little sleepy. Not nighttime tired sleepy. But nap sleepy. Her mind was wandering. She considered taking a short nap on the bus, but decided to wait until she was aboard the plane. If she timed it right, she could readjust her clock to the local Las Vegas clock by the time they landed.

Vegas. God, they had so much to do next week. Even without worrying about the maybe bomb. The lull between Thanksgiving and Christmas. They had some major design decisions to make next week during the walk-through of their fort build, they had more experiments to run in the desert, and she really wanted a solid couple of days to just hang with Chloe with no interruptions or missions or outside drama. They could both use some down-time and chill-time and sexy-time together. They hadn't had much since the Russians showed up. She had to remind herself that was only a handful of calendar days ago. How many loops did she take to get through all of that? She wasn't alert enough to do the math, but it seemed like forever ago.

Then there was Christmas. No way she was going to miss Christmas at home this year. Her parents would kill her, and she really did want to hang out with them over the holidays. Vegas had its charms, but Seattle had family and the Pacific Ocean. And now that she knew John and Samuel had her back, she was less worried about their safety. Part of what inspired them to take off in the first place. And Christmas wasn't as sensitive for Chloe, so maybe the chill time would do her some good too.

She hadn't spoken with Chloe about this yet, and she'd have to - but she wondered if that week might be the time to tell her parents about the two of them being together. Last October, they were just so new. Not that she expected any sort of drama from her parents. They loved her, and they loved Chloe probably more than they loved her. She half suspected they suspected already, and were just waiting for her to tell them. She knew in her heart that they'd be happy for both of them. Really. But there was still some lingering nervousness about it because she hadn't said anything yet. Not rational, but real.

She loved Chloe with all her heart. And she knew they really would be together forever. Nervous didn't matter. She wanted her parents to know how important Chloe was to her. That she was more than just part of the family.

She felt herself lifted a little out of her seat before the universe stopped. Static. Shades of high contrast colorlessness, reality slamming violently back and forth between microseconds.

 _Shit. What happened? Whatever it is, it would have killed me._

She looked around for a second as vibrations grew. The back half of the bus was made mostly of small fragments, fire expanding in the spaces between. That was all she could see from where she was.

 _This is probably going to hurt._ She rewound about twenty seconds, dropped ten feet to the highway as time began again. She twisted her ankle when she hit, rolled off to the middle divider. The coach was bearing down on her. She was in the wrong place. Whatever happened caused the coach to explode right next to her, and she was still here. _Shit._ She tried to stand, but couldn't. The bus pulled alongside her at full speed, exploded from the rear.

Static. Color drained. Massive vibrations as time tripped back and forth.

She rewound thirty seconds. Leaned against the center divider. Traffic at full highway speed. She'd never make it across on her ankle. _Ugh. Really? Try again, dumbass._ Fully awake now, ankle on fire, she froze time, hobbled across to the side of the road. Grass. A drainage ditch. Intermittent hedge, and green fields. Small spiny creature off to one side. She managed to move back along the road, to get behind the point of explosion and at least some distance away.

She could see the coach half a mile down the road. She stood as time flowed. Quarter of a mile. A few hundred feet. She froze time. That's when she saw it. The missile. And the fighter jet off in the distance, following the roadway. _Dude - seriously? What the fuck?_ She assumed it was meant for her. It would be beyond coincidence that there was someone else on the coach that the British military wanted dead. Especially given where she just came from. But they wanted her bad enough to fire on a bus full of people? _What kind of person follows those orders? Or, what would a normal person have to believe was on the bus to follow those orders? That was the more likely question._

Either way, she was safe, but the passengers weren't out of danger. Missile was aimed at the bus, not her. There was a limit to what she could do with freezes and rewinds. If she wanted to get rid of that missile without shockwaving everyone on the highway to death, there was only one way she knew of. And she'd only done it once. By accident. She leaned on passing cars to get out to the center again. Her ankle was starting to swell up, and the pain was increasing. But it was the only thing she could try.

She was a little behind where the missile hit the bus. Close enough. She stepped out behind the bus, in front of the path of the missile. It was still going to be over her head, but not by much. Might be close enough.

She remembered standing on the roof of the hotel. Chloe linked through Sophie. The flash of a muzzle. She didn't even see the bullet. Only the flash through someone else's eyes. She was still able to catch it. _So it's not about seeing it._ Sensing somehow, maybe. But not consciously. She was trying to freeze the world. A stray thought from Chloe, a suggestion to only freeze the bullet. _Not even time to think about it._ Something else Chloe said once. _"Maybe you just have to trust your powers. Think about what you want to happen, not the how."_

 _Trust your powers, Max._

 _Chloe fucking Kenobi? Really brain?_

Time resumed. She felt the slipstream of the bus pull away from her back, dragging her off balance on one good leg, as the missile rushed toward her at twice the speed of sound. She reached.

Twenty feet from her, it halted, crystalized in a ten-foot iridescent sphere of suspended time. Shimmering in midair. Fighter jet growing upside down beyond the lensing effects of the surface. The sphere sat motionless for a beat, then shot off sideways in an arc, up and to the west at a thousand miles per hour.

 _Yes! Wait...what!?_

 _Later._ The jet was circling back for another shot. Still going after the bus. _Goddammit._ Max froze time. She was hopping on one foot now, leaning on the center divider, trying to catch up to where the bus was. _Portals dude. Portals._ She stopped.

Was she going about all of this all wrong? She was reacting when she should be thinking. She had the freeze. She had time.

She leaned against the center concrete divider. Caught her breath. Even frozen, the countryside was beautiful. The sun heading down in the same direction the missile went. She could still feel it. Frozen in a bubble, while the universe was frozen around it. _Freezeception._

She refocused. A moment of calm in the English countryside. Closed her eyes.

She took stock. Her ankle wasn't broken, but it was definitely sprained. That wouldn't do.

The jet only had so many missiles, but there were always more jets. She didn't want to hurt anyone, but they shouldn't be shooting missiles at a bus full of people. Huh.

The missile. _Why had it shot off like that? West…_

Asking the question unlocked answers Max didn't know she had.

 _Of course!_ Frozen in front of her isn't actually perfectly still. It's in motion. It only appears still relative to the surface of the earth. But that surface is moving. Spinning. Rotating around an axis at over a thousand miles per hour. _So was the sphere._

The sphere was locked to the earth's surface as a frame of reference. But Chloe said the bullet kept going after the sphere went away. Suspended, not stopped. There are too many cars on the road. Someone would have been hit by the missile. So the solution was to make the missile go away. _This was my subconscious working with my powers!_ Unlocking it from the earth's surface. Locking it to some other frame of reference. A point in space relative to the sun. It only _appeared_ to shoot off into the distance. It was still. _We rotated out and away from it at a thousand miles per hour. How many frames of reference are there for motion? Could I use them?_

Everything is relative. _I remember that._ There is no single objective frame of reference in the universe. So it could just as easily have locked to the rotation of the earth around the sun. _67,000 miles per hour._ Or the Sun relative to neighboring stars. _43,000 miles per hour._ Or onto our path around the Milky Way galaxy. _483,000 miles per hour._ Or our path against the cosmic background radiation. _1.3 million miles per hour._

 _So I could have frozen the missile here, and shot it away at more than a million miles an hour, simply by anchoring it to another frame of reference? Holy. Shit._

 _Literal amazeballs!_

Max wasn't sure where this had come from. Or at least, she wasn't any clearer on the real answer to where any of this had come from. But this was something she could use to help the people on the bus. If she could control the relatively static position of a frozen sphere of space-time, in motion relative to other frames of reference, could she move one around? _Like a little frozen space-time drone?_

Only one way to find out.

But first, her ankle. She couldn't keep up with the bus hobbling around like this. She'd had an idea in the back of her mind for a few days, but this was as good a time as any to test it out.

Remembering what she'd done to burn the sedatives out of her system, she kept the world frozen, shifted her body clock into overdrive while her mind clock noodled along. No time for the world. A few minutes for her mind. A day for her body, with already accelerated healing. She was worried that when she came out, she might be super hungry, but the body clock didn't appear to work that way. It was relative. But not absolute. She tested her leg. Mostly there. She gave it a few more minutes.

Her ankle felt like new. She set off after the bus. Fighter jet hanging motionless mid-turn in the distant sky.

 _Sorry Chloe. Have to do a few experiments without you._

 _Lives are at stake though. You understand…_


	18. Crossing

**Max** stopped about a half mile ahead of the bus, twenty feet away from the side of the road, out in an open green field. Running room for whatever was next. The fighter jet hadn't moved, still locked mid-turn in the distance, brown camouflage against the grey of the clouds.

She had time to think about her plan on the walk up. She could probably take out the jet the same way she'd taken out the missile. Bigger bubble, maybe. She didn't know what the upper size limit on that might be. The wingspan was at least thirty to forty feet? Maybe twice as long front to back? But she wasn't convinced that destroying the plane was necessary - or even right. For all she knew, the pilot might think they're saving London from a zombie death virus or neutron bomb or something.

 _Okay Max. All you have to do is send enough of a message so the pilot backs off. Hopefully without hurting anyone. And without ending up all over YouTube._

She could always take a few cycles to stretch her powers, see what was possible.

Max kicked the world back to life, walked a few feet. The grass sloshed, gave a bit with each step, saturated below from the winter drizzle. The air smelled earthy. The jet continued its high speed banking path, cutting through light rain, white streamers curling off its wingtips. Sound trailing behind in the sky. It ended the turn lined up with the road, came at the bus low, from the front.

Max concentrated, trying to make a small section of air in front of her freeze. The whole universe stopped. _Shit._ She started it again. Focused again. Everything stopped.

 _Damn. Not working. Think Max._

Focusing on freezing the space didn't work. _But that's not how you did it before anyway. You weren't focused on the space, or on the bullet or the missile. You just wanted to stop the threat, right?_

She restarted the world and rewound time about ten seconds, watching the jet reverse as her marker. Cleared her mind. Closed her eyes. She thought only of what she wanted, like Chloe said. A small bubble in front of her. Nothing more.

She opened her eyes.

 _And…nothing._

 _I…must be missing something basic here. Shit._

The jet was lined up over the road again. Fired another missile. She was well off to the side, out of danger as it raced forward, thirty feet above the roadway. She reached out. The missile stopped, locked in a static ten-foot sphere of space-time. The jet struck it from behind a moment later, carving out a perfectly circular hole all the way through the plane, sending what remained tumbling in a fireball on each side. Max stopped time.

 _Oh fuck! Sorry pilot person! I'm gonna reverse this, but…I really need to see what the hell just happened. That looked…yeah. Sorry._

She ran over to the roadway.

To her right, flaming wreckage hanging in midair. Wings, a long crescent sliver of off-center fuselage, the top of the tail section. They all looked like they'd been cut out with a lightsaber or something. Edges clean. Sharp. Not smashed or torn.

To her left, the sphere containing the missile. She could see that the missile was intact inside, but the lensing of the background was blocked by darkness. She walked around to look at the back, where the middle diameter of the jet had struck.

Nothing of the jet had penetrated into the sphere of frozen time. _Of course not. How could it? Moving 'through' only happens as a function of distance traveled over time._ There's no time flowing in the sphere, so no way for material to move any distance through it. _So what happened to the jet?_ She could see that something of it was compressed onto the surface on that half of the sphere, but couldn't see it close enough to tell how much.

The sphere descended, as if to give her a better look.

She backed up too quickly, almost tripping. _Woah! Did I do that?!_

It dropped down to hang inches above the road surface. The world was still in a total freeze. Looking at it from the side, the sphere was a vertical half shell of dark material in one direction, and half glistening opalescent lens in the other. The missile in the middle, the sphere was otherwise hollow, light dancing within.

The mass of the plane was compressed at the surface of the sphere, like a layer of foil covering the east half, with a sharp border in a vertical equator all the way around. All of that mass, the metal, parts, composites, fluids, the pilot…now smeared across the surface into a layer no more than a few molecules thick. Walking around to the very back, she could still see the outlines of the shape of the plane, like looking at a hemispherical wrap of a photo of the back of a jet. Or maybe a projection? Even the glow from the twin engines, flat but following the curve of the sphere.

 _Chloe is gonna have to explain this - I can see the what, I just…don't know the why._

Max backed up into the green field again. She wanted to play this through and see what happened before slowly reversing to watch the crash. The sphere ascended to its former location.

 _Okay - it's definitely reacting to me. But I'm not thinking about anything at all. Not willing anything, not visualizing it moving, nothing. I clearly don't know how to control this right yet._

She let time go forward. The wreckage of the wings and tail continued ahead at a few hundred miles per hour, catching air, spinning off and crashing down on each side of the road over a quarter of a mile away. The bus drove under the sphere in a panic, lurched out the other side and down the road, unharmed. Max collapsed the frozen bubble. The missile launched forward at twice the speed of sound. The layer of foil that had been the plane continued forward at the speed of sound, but had regained its plane shape, minus the sheared off wings and tail. It burst into flames, the pilot ejected, and the plane came crashing down on the roadway past the wing sections.

 _No fucking way! What?_

Max stopped, rewound slowly. The plane's fuselage flew backwards, the pilot's ejection seat landed in the moving plane, and it traveled through the space where the bubble had been. The missile flew backwards into place behind it. The bubble reformed. The plane was again a thin smear on the surface of the frozen time-space bubble, missile locked within. Max spun the universe like a jog wheel, watching the seconds on each side of the bubble collapse back and forth.

 _There is some seriously major fuckery going on here._

She could piece it together now. Mostly. When the plane hit the sphere, it cut a sphere-sized hole in the plane. The outside of the plane, past the sphere's edge, separated and went on without any resistance. But the central 10-foot diameter was being…stored maybe? …like a holographic smear on the surface of the time bubble? Almost like buffering a video… So when the sphere broke, it released from the inner surface of the foil, unfurling with no damage, and at the original speed and direction.

 _I don't have any idea how to process this_ , Max thought. _Chloe's gonna lose her fucking mind when I show it to her though._

Satisfied that she understood the effects, if not the mechanisms, Max rewound all the way back to the jet's banking curve. She found a small stone on the ground and picked it up on a hunch. She let time go. Threw the stone into the air and reached. The stone held position, centered in a three-inch sphere of frozen glistening space-time. Three feet in front of her face. _Boom! Gotcha!_

 _Okay - that…was seriously fucking cool._

The jet fired a missile at the front of the bus.

 _Gah. Nope._

Max's three-inch sphere leapt away from her and up toward the road, slammed into the nose of the missile from the side, punched a perfectly circular hole through it and kept going. The missile exploded harmlessly thirty feet above the roadway, showering debris in all directions. The jet pulled up and left, hard. The bus drove past Max ten seconds later, kept going. _Yes!_ She sank into the mud a little as she landed from her little happy jump.

The jet again circled around, coming down from behind for another pass.

 _Time for the message. I hope this…_

She reached out and caught the entire jet in a hundred-foot sphere. Without thinking, she rotated it ninety-degrees so the jet's nose was facing up, and collapsed the bubble. Inertia was preserved, but the direction was shifted along with the jet. The plane shot straight up, disappeared into the clouds.

 _That…works?_

 _Well Chloe, you were the one who said I had more power than an army…_

Max imagined that from the pilot's perspective, one missile stopped and went sideways, the next exploded, and on the third pass, they were dropping down over the roadway, the next second they were soaring up through the tops of clouds. Had to cause them to question what was happening at least a little bit. And the rotation up had to be disorienting for sure. Probably fucked with instruments too. She watched the bus continue into the distance. She waited a few minutes. No sign of a returning jet.

That had to be enough to shake anyone up.

 _Still need to get to the airport though. Shit… Um. Bye bus. You're welcome!_

Max went back to the roadside. She wanted to call Chloe - after all, it had been her random thought about stopping a bullet in midair that saved everyone on that coach. _That was like thirty lives at least._ It was still raining. She should probably call a cab, then call Chloe. She took out her phone. _No service._

 _Ugh. Looks like we're walking. At least until we find a cell tower._ She raised the hood on her hoodie, zipped the front, and started walking east. She knew that if anyone fucked with the bus, she'd pass it eventually and see, then rewind to whatever happened.

But she didn't think they'd be back.

She hoped no one tracked Sophie and Hector. _If they'd gotten into trouble, Sophie would definitely have hit me up for an assist, wouldn't she?_

* * *

 **Max** threw open the door of the stolen police car and ran for the terminal curb. The helicopter had stopped short of the airport's airspace, but half a dozen police cars and SUVs still followed, all lights and sirens. Once she was safely out of traffic, she waved goodbye and spun time back one hour.

She'd only been walking along the country road for a few minutes when the first of the cute compact police cars arrived. Even the siren sound it made was adorable. Bee-boop. American police cars were all aggressive and blocky and dark and growly and mean. Inspired by military themes, and designed to intimidate. British police vehicles were white with neon accents and seemed helpful and friendly and generally delightful. She'd decided to borrow one. Much better than walking through the rain in a cotton hoodie anyway. She knew she'd send it back when she was done. _No harm, right? Like it never happened._ She hadn't passed the coach on the drive over, so she assumed it arrived unmolested.

Back to the present, she turned around and walked into Terminal 3. Her flight was scheduled to leave at 6:30PM GMT. She'd have time to get through security, relax for a few, maybe get a snack before boarding.

She printed out her boarding pass at the kiosk and stepped to the end of the security line. _In queue? Is that how they say it?_ She could just bypass all of this, but she wasn't sure if they did some sort of extra checkbox for the security scan of each passenger, or if she needed a mark on her boarding pass or whatever.

She finally arrived at the checkpoint, handed over her boarding pass and alias passport. The security agent scanned both, handed them back, and motioned her forward. She put her messenger bag on the conveyor, and stepped into the body scanner. She'd never been in one like this before. On the way over, security had done a super-gropey hand pat-down. They ran the machine twice, and motioned for her to step forward, then pointed her off to the side into a temporary hold area.

The scanner operator had called over a supervisor, both looking at the monitor with confused expressions. Curious, Max froze time and walked around to their side of the machine. She imagined that the display was supposed to show something roughly person shaped, highlighting any guns, knives, old-timey cartoon bombs, whatever. But the screen was just a distorted mess. _Weird. Malfunction, or the scanner's reaction to me maybe?_ She went back to her assigned area and restarted.

After a moment, a security worker came toward her as if with a question, then looked beyond her and rapidly withdrew with wide eyes. Max looked behind her to see half a dozen armed commando looking dudes coming up on her. As soon as she turned, they started shouting for her to get down on the ground in that universal barky bro-shout language.

 _Sorry dudebros. Just trying to get back home here_. She sent everything into a freeze.

Max picked up her bag and looked at the printer timestamp on her boarding pass. Walked over to a bookstore inside the terminal and rewound to just after she'd printed it out at the kiosk. Started again. _Technically, I did go through security_ , she thought to herself as she headed off in the direction of her gate.

She grabbed a snack and a green tea on her way, paying with the last of her British coins, and found herself a seat in front of the giant window looking out over the tarmac. She had 45 minutes until they started boarding. Queue time erased now. But more gate waiting time. On the plus side, this view was better than a boring holding room, which is probably where she would have ended up.

She put in her headphones, intending to listen to some music, maybe call Chloe in a few. But her phone asked her to enter her language and country, like it was a first-time setup. Or it glitched out and reset to factory defaults. _Shit. Not now._ She tried taking it through the setup routine, hoping it would get her back to something she could use. But it wasn't allowing her to continue. _I'm nowhere near my carrier's network. Probably can't do it from here. Ugh._ Minor annoyance, but an annoyance still. She could always call Chloe from a courtesy phone or something, right? She didn't imagine they had pre-paid phones for sale in the airport, but it was something she could check. _But is it worth it just for the next forty-five minutes?_ Not that she had to worry about money, but it did seem like wasted effort. She'd probably rewind some of the flight time away when she got to Las Vegas anyway. If she didn't fall asleep.

Headphones still in, her world lost color, vibrated strongly, slamming back and forth between moments. She looked up. In the reflection in the glass, she could see a uniformed officer with a rifle at the back of her head. _Okay. This has to fucking stop._

She rewound a few minutes back. Froze the world.

 _That's twice today they would have killed me. First time they were willing to kill thirty other people too. I could believe that maybe they were pissed at losing Tom, and the pilot was seriously mislead into firing on the coach full of innocent people._

 _This time, at least it was just me. But I'm just sitting here. I'm no threat to anyone. Why? It doesn't make any goddamn sense. That cop guy walked right up behind me in an airport and tried to blow my brains out._

 _What normal police officer or security employee would do something that extreme in a public place? And why? Grrr._

 _Basics. How are they finding me? First time I was on a bus. Tracked my phone? Or cameras, saw where I went? British drones maybe? Any of those make sense._

 _But in here? They have to have my picture. Only way they'd know what I look like. Could have gotten that from cameras or drones. That tracks. The security checkpoint. Same guys. They've been waiting? That means they have this travel name too. And my flight. So this ID is blown._

 _Aaaand I need to find another way back… Shit._

Careful to stay on this side of her final redirection of the jet earlier, Max rewound to just before the kiosk. No sign that she'd checked in remained on their systems. Froze. _Okay, so I just need to find another plane going back to the US. Luggage compartment it is…_

* * *

 **Max** knew within half an hour of landing in New York that something bad was happening. It wasn't just in the UK. None of her credit cards or ATM cards worked in the airport. Her phone wouldn't complete the setup process. And when she picked up a pre-paid phone at a store outside the airport, she couldn't reach Sophie or Chloe. She tried calling the hotel in Vegas, but was told that they couldn't share information about any guests, but refused to try to connect to the room. She was holding off on calling John just yet.

 _Okay Max. First things first. We need warmer clothes, we need to get some cash money, and we need to rewind back about six hours so we can find somewhere to catch up on sleep. You're deep in the deprivation zone. Need to be sharp for this._

It was November 30th, around 8pm, and New York was cold. And Max was wandering around outside. _Jacket first Max. Wrong kind of freeze out here._ She was on a side road in front of the airport, and there were a few motels. But she'd need ID and cash to rent a room officially. She didn't have either. She walked along for a few blocks, shivering, until she saw what she was looking for. Sporting goods store. _They had to have winter jackets._ _Smash and grab and fix. Sorry random small business owner. I'll find a way to repay you for a jacket. Promise._

She blew through the glass and locks on the sliding metal gate, and went inside. Alarms blazing, she tried on a few jackets. None of them looked great on her, but any would keep her warm. She decided to go with the white puffy ski jacket with fuzzy hood and pink zippers. She also picked up a pair of white mittens and a thicker pair of socks. After she'd changed, she went out through the front window, rewinding to before the break. She popped up her fuzzy hood with newly mittened fingers. _Such betters. More warm. Now monies._

Around the corner, a small bank. _I can't believe we're really gonna do this Max. Chloe would be so flippin' proud._ _Or pissed that she wasn't here._ She made a mental note to buy the bank once everything was straightened out, so there'd be no real loss to anyone. The front door was glass, so that was easy. The alarm sounded. She rewound from inside. Door was back to normal. As soon as she moved, she set off the motion sensors, setting off the alarm again. _Oops._ She rewound, froze time.

She looked around until she found the vault in the very back. It wasn't one of those fancy big round doors with the spinny thing like she'd seen in movies. It was just a very heavy, very thick green steel door with a small dial lock and circular key slot on one side. She started time. The alarm sounded as soon as she moved. She checked a few desks until she found a paperclip, straightened it out. She threw it up in the air and caught it in a ten-inch sphere of frozen time. The iridescent ball moved to the door, blended through the metal in the upper right corner, smearing the steel across its surface, leaving a gap behind. It descended to the lower right corner, paused, changed direction make a line from right to left, then back up, a pause, and back to the starting point. With a ten-inch gap on all four sides, the center rectangle of steel fell straight down, leaned outward for a moment before slamming loudly into the ground, breaking floor tile.

The sphere moved into the room to hang out near the ceiling, out of the way.

 _Who needs lightsabers? Heh. But for reals, I think I'm getting the hang of these spheres. It's not like a drone where I have to pilot it around or anything. It's more like…an extension of my body. I don't think about moving the individual muscles in my arm when I want to grab something. I don't even think distances, directions, or any of that. I just reach out and grab the thing. This seems to work exactly the same way…direct._

 _So…does that mean that these spheres actually are a part of me somehow, and not just something that I cause to happen? Another Chloe question._ She noted that Chloe questions were starting to pile up. _Like why it is that the spheres feel like something I'm learning to control, and not something I'm remembering how to control._ The distinction felt important for some reason. _Damn Chloe. Why can't I reach you?_

Max stepped through the gap into the room. It was more like a room-sized safe than what she imagined for a proper bank vault. But there were a few locked cages taking up one side with piles of banded bills inside. She slowed time again, punched through the lock of one cage. She reached in and pulled out five purple banded stacks of used twenties. Two thousand dollars in each. Ten thousand dollars total. _Should be enough to get me back._ She carefully unbound them, making sure no hidden dye would explode or anything.

Satisfied she wouldn't be turned into a smurf, she rebanded four of the stacks with tape and put them in her messenger bag, splitting the last one into smaller pocket sized folds for various jacket pockets.

She backed way up, and collapsed the bubble. A ten-inch wide, five-inch thick strip of steel door unfurled and rotated inside the room as corners formed, leaving behind a near perfect rectangle. It bounced off the walls in the process, crushing one of the cages as gravity overcame rotational inertia.

 _That did look awesomely weird…_

Max went out through the front door, rewound time to just after she'd fixed the front of the sporting goods store. Warm clothes on her back, cash in her pockets, she walked to the nearest hotel. Rewound five hours, and after a lengthy series of repeated conversations, found the right conversation flow and pressure points. She paid the clerk twice the room rate in cash to check in without ID.

If her head-math was correct, it had only been four hours of real time since she'd first landed in London, before spinning back to rescue Tom. Only three and a half since last speaking with Chloe from the coach. And only about three hours since she sent the jet racing skyward.

And far too long for her. She'd been careful not to undo any of the big moves, but everything from the jet forward was just motion.

She latched the door behind her, brushed her teeth, and collapsed in a heap on the bed.


	19. Enemies of the State

**Max** couldn't sleep. As exhausted as she was, her mind wouldn't settle. The light leaking in and the lumpy motel bed weren't helping. That, and it was only 3pm in New York. The flight she'd caught over from London wouldn't arrive for another four hours or so. Usual jet lag plus time-hop insomnia.

 _I'd be fine if I could just reach Chloe_ , she thought, rolling onto her back. Shadows danced on the ceiling.

She didn't want to overreact either. It could be as simple as Chloe's phone account going dark, like hers had. _Right?_ Max would appear just as unreachable to Chloe right now if she tried to find her. _But if that were true, then both accounts were shut down at the same time._ In a half hour window between the last time she'd spoken to Chloe, and her coach coming under attack in the UK. And their accounts were based in the US, and weren't linked. _That doesn't feel like an accident. And with my credit cards not working now…_

Hitting a wall when she called the hotel was the real signal that they had a problem. _They should have just put me through to our room, or taken a message if Chloe was out._ She didn't want to admit it, but their evasive refusal to do or say anything strongly suggested that something happened in Vegas around the same time. _Where Chloe is…_

She sat up in bed. No, they definitely had a problem. She just didn't know what it was, the shape of it yet. She could understand the Brits coming after her in the UK in isolation. She did help free Tom. But what about Chloe? Phones? Credit cards? Their influence wouldn't extend over here would it? Not that quickly?

This all seemed more like US government territory. More Samuel and Michaels territory. That didn't make sense either. She didn't have any reason to think they'd be behind this. After all, she'd just helped them capture thirty enemy agents working in the US. And Michaels was actively looking into her dream about the explosion in Vegas. And he'd just called Chloe like half an hour before the jet hit the coach. As far as she knew, their relationship with them was great. _Unless something turned with their bosses?_

 _Fuck. Too many things going wrong at the same time in different parts of the world._

She wouldn't be able to sleep like this. She pulled out her burner phone and dialed John's number from memory.

* * *

 **Michaels** set the beer bottle on the edge of the balcony railing, looked out over the sand. It was noon on Saturday. A few lifestyle surfers still out there, but the best winter storm waves wouldn't hit until February. That's when the first real crowds came. That's when the locals fought to keep ownership of their place in the swells. _Another life._

His phone rang. New York area code, didn't recognize the number. Answered.

"Michaels." He turned and sat on the chaise.

"Hey John. It's Max, you got a sec?"

She sounded far away. Tired. Or a cheap phone. He looked at his watch. _Right. Probably a burner by now._

"Yeah - we need to talk Max. I'm surprised that you called so soon. Glad though. I talked to Chloe this morning, but couldn't call her back after I found out. Hey - mark the time. You'll need to go back after we talk. It won't be safe for either of us if you don't." _Well, won't be safe for me at least._

"John, you've always been straight with me - what's going on?"

"It's not us, I promise. I mean, it's us, but not _us_ us. None of us that were working on your…project before. Sam, me, my guys, the analysts, everyone you knew or saw is out. I just found out a couple of hours ago, before my 'need to know' was pulled and I was escorted out of the building."

"Shit. I can't get a hold of Chloe. My phone, credit cards, nothing works. All connected?"

"That's how it usually starts. I don't know what the new protocols for you are exactly, but… For what it's worth, they ignored my advice completely. Sorry. I really did try." He watched a seagull hover in the wind over a lifeguard tower.

"What do you mean 'how it starts'? What was your advice?"

"I said that they should be content to work with you on your terms. It was a long-shot, but…"

"Other ideas won… Oh man. This is gonna majorly suck, isn't it?" She didn't sound afraid, but he could sense wheels were turning.

"They usually _start_ with the whole life erasure thing. That's often all it takes from what I hear. But we didn't have a playbook for what you are…what you have. So we were prepared to sit back and evaluate for six months or so. Figure out what the right play was. That's what our contract was for anyway."

"What changed? Why the short notice theater?"

"Probably my fault, but…in a way it was also inevitable. I pushed hard for your autonomy after seeing you guys in action last week. Seemed obvious to me. Guess they didn't bite. So I think they called off the eval, and went back to the talent acquisition playbook."

"Going after friends and family, bullshit like that, right?" He could sense an edge to her voice. Protective.

"Pretty much, yeah. I mean, that's the threat, but it's never been used that I know of. The carrot is there too - it's really good pay, relatively relaxed work, and there's some comfort knowing that the service is for the greater good. Margaret has been on board for over ten years, and she's done alright. I mean, we're talking about a very small number of people here, and once they're on board, they're mostly treated like rock stars."

"Rock stars who have to go on stage, or else?"

"We all exist under a hundred implied 'or else's' every day. But…fair point." He got up, walked to the rail again. "My assessment was that you and Chloe didn't really need us, and you'd probably react negatively to ultimatums or hardball tactics. And with your talents, any intimidation stuff would most likely backfire. I said they should be happy with any help you wanted to give."

"Cause you've met us… I mean, we've been super friendly and everything. I don't know. I thought we all worked really well together. So, why are you guys out then? Aside from maybe not being assholes I guess. Sorry - answered my own question. Next - who do I have to talk to now to straighten this out?"

"Whole new company. New team. Lead guy's name is Roland Stirling. I don't know any of them. But I'm not sure there's an appetite for 'straightening things out', Max. They want your skills. But they don't want your independent will exactly. That's the problem. And I'm guessing that's not something that's going to work for you or Chloe."

"They do realize I have superpowers, right? How do they think this is going to go?"

He smiled. "Heh. Honestly - I have no idea. I told them what I thought was possible. I don't know what their plan is, but they'll come at you with some obvious moves first."

"Shutting down credit cards and phones?"

"To start. They'll want to isolate you. Make you afraid. Make you feel like you're not smart enough to win, outmatched, trapped, attacks coming at you from all sides. They'll try to keep you off balance, vulnerable. Make you feel like dependent cooperation is your best and only hope for normal." He knew they'd have to try harder than that.

"Let me guess - not a lot of women in leadership roles there? They're literally just channeling their inner abusive boyfriend? _That's_ their whole plan?"

"I've never heard it put that way, but yeah… Pretty much exactly that I guess. Early on they'll want to kill your outside communications, remove your access to support networks, friends, family, online networks, finances, reduce your ability to move around, travel safely, make it impossible to conduct basic transactions."

"Annoying, but not deadly…"

"The thinking is that by turning the world hostile, they make it impossible to live on your own. By turning people against you, it's impossible to stay hidden. You have to feel like it's no-win before you're really ready to submit. People reach that place at different times, I guess."

"And when we try to leave the asshole boyfriend for good?"

"Stalker territory, to continue your analogy. Face recognition in crowds, total electronic dragnet, they'll start sending teams after you, drone hunts, maybe go public, or after family and friends in a more direct way, until they eventually wear you down. Most people happily fold way back at first contact, by the way. Just happy to get their basic bank accounts and Facebook profile back. So all this is theoretical, but since you're an edge case…"

"How deep will they go with us?"

"As deep as they can. They'll want you both locked down. So anything under either of your names is probably gone already, anything you've accessed electronically is dead, anything you've talked about on the phone with anyone is compromised… Any place you've ever been is marked. Any online contacts have been threatened, friends and family harassed… Anything that touches any form of officially issued ID is probably flagged as a high risk, detain or seize…so if you get pulled over, try to fly, whatever, you can expect a SWAT team at the very least."

He knew he was painting a grim picture for her, but she needed to understand what she was going to be facing to come out the other side.

"So… Let me repeat my earlier question in a slightly louder voice - _they do realize I have superpowers, right?_ " She seemed more incredulous than angry at this point.

"Max, I think we all know most of this won't be a big deal for you, but some might be a problem for Chloe if she's solo. And they're not stupid. They've been planning for your talent specifically. They're executing at month two instead of month six, but they will still have elements of their plan that _rely_ on you being a time traveler. Count on it. I've seen some of the early brainstorm stuff, but who knows where they're going. Lot of teams were shadowing us in the background." He turned, leaned, faced his reflection in the glass door.

"Well, I mean, to be fair, they've already taken it a lot farther than sending swat teams…"

"What do you mean?" _It's only been a couple of hours?_

"Fighter jet, tried to take me out with a few missiles? I was on a bus with like 30 other people at the time."

"Holy shit…" Michaels was dumbfounded. He knew that civilian casualties could happen in a wartime theater of operations, but that was unthinkable on the home court. "That…doesn't make _any_ sense at all, Max. They want to put your talents to work for them. They think they need you controlled, but…you have to be alive to be any use to them. Unless they've decided to just try to kill you outright? I mean, I just…I don't get that at all. They're all really smart people. They had to know it wouldn't work. So maybe that's…part of their plan?" He was pacing now.

"Seemed like a dumb idea to me. I mean, I don't know if I should be underestimating them or overestimating them at this point?"

"How bad did it go for the pilot? I assume everyone on the bus came out okay?"

"Everyone's fine. Pilot too. I'm not a murderer. I can't believe the pilot would have opened fire on unarmed civilians without _that_ being presented to him as the _least_ bad option. Same with the guy who shot me in the head at Heathrow… Don't get me wrong - I've met some real sick assholes, but… I know most people aren't."

"Heathrow? So they've gone for a kill twice? Shit. Max - they're really _not_ this stupid. There must be something we can't see here. These people aren't reckless. They don't panic. They had to know it wouldn't work."

"Then why fuck with me like this at all?"

"If I was thinking like a strategist for a minute? Most of what they could throw at you would be trivial to avoid. They know it. So if this is a plan baked just for you, maybe they're upping the intensity to get your attention? Let you know how serious they are? Testing to see how resilient you'll be? Or they're giving you opportunity to take the lives of your attackers maybe, hoping to play some guilt angle later? Maybe trying to show you that civilians around you are at risk if you don't comply? I don't know. But I can't believe they'd be serious about trying to actually kill you. But maybe. They have precogs, so maybe someone saw something and they're trying to shut down a risk?"

"Then they should know it's not that easy. I don't like being killed, John. _It's really super uncomfortable_." Max paused. "Okay, so…back to Chloe? She's the next obvious target, and I can't reach her. Did they get to her? And would they most likely think to kill her, or keep her alive? I also can't get a hold of Sophie, for whatever that's worth."

"I don't know about Sophie. She'd be a priority recruitment target regardless if she hadn't been with you. But taking her off the board prevents her from helping you communicate right now. I don't know if that means dead or disabled or what. But if they were planning to take Chloe, they had to know Sophie would be your first call, given her conduit talents. And that wouldn't work for them."

"Shit. She was only trying to help us too. She and Hector should have just stayed away."

"Given your experience so far today, I'd assume they have Chloe already, and she'll be off the grid until a moment where she's most useful to them in manipulating you. By herself, she isn't a threat to them, but she is leverage over you. So I think it's safe to assume she's alive. I mean, honestly, killing her just seems suicidal to me, but that's why they're _them_ and I'm on the phone trying to figure a way to help you through this I guess." He looked out over the sand again. Black dots bobbing up and down with the swells.

"Thanks John. I won't forget this either. I just…just realized this is the third time I'm having this conversation. About Chloe as leverage. First was with Chloe, second was with Sophie, and now you. Okay. So they have to know that I'll find a way around…"

John saw the glint of light off of the drone's carapace a half second before the bullet entered his brain.

* * *

 **Michaels** set the beer bottle on the edge of the balcony railing, looked out over the sand. It was noon on Saturday. A few lifestyle surfers still out there, but the best winter storm waves wouldn't hit until February. That's when the crowds came. That's when the locals fought to keep ownership of their place in the swells. _Another life._

His phone rang. New York area code, didn't recognize the number. He answered.

"Michaels." He turned and sat on the chaise.

"Hey John. Max. Don't worry, I'll rewind again once we're done, for safeties. Last time it took them about ten minutes to shut you down. Heard a gunshot, and your phone fell to the ground, so it didn't sound like fun. But you're alive again, so yay?"

"Max?" She sounded far away. Cheap phone? Had to be. "Wait - they killed me? _"_

"Yeah. But I mean… you got better. No? Okay, catchup mode. Um…you died. New loop. Moving on. Here's the deal, sounds like this Roland dude has decided to play with us. We don't know exactly what he's after yet, but probably Subjugation of The Max is somewhere in there. Um, they've frozen me out of most of my stuff, I'm in New York, Chloe and Sophie are missing. Or at least I can't reach them. And so far they tried to shoot me in the head in the middle of an airport, and came after me with missiles while I was on a bus full of people. With me so far?"

"Yeah." _Holy shit. That's some fucking insane nonsense overkill right there…_

"So when we left off last loop, you suggested that they probably had Chloe already, but would keep her alive, and I was about to ask a few questions. Where would they take her? How do I get her back? What would they likely try to do to prevent me from just going back and undoing all of this, that sort of thing."

"Huh. Wait - they tried to kill you with a missile?" He stood up, leaned against the railing with his elbows.

"Yeah, everyone's fine. Pilot too. Focus John. Chloe. We don't have much time."

"Okay. Sorry - that just sounds really stupid and fucked up. Unless…I mean…unless you weren't the target?"

"Yeah…huh? Wait - what do you mean?"

"You asked what they might do to try to keep you from going back. Reminded of something from the early brainstorms… This is horrific, but kind of brilliant - controlling your jumps by using civilian deaths as time-anchors. I mean, that was early blue sky stuff. Reject pile - we'd never…but…maybe they did?

"I think you need to explain this to me John."

He pushed off, started walking back and forth on the deck. "So, okay - take a point in time as the start, and set in motion a hard-coded sequence of events, maybe designed with precogs to mirror your first known path through time, to prevent you from wanting to deviate or redo by killing people along your path - set in motion in some unstoppable sort of way… Things you could prevent, but not if you weren't physically there. What if that plane was scheduled to attack that bus, regardless? You jump back to somewhere else, aren't in the UK when that happens, those passengers all die?"

"Oh my god. That _is_ fucking horrific. Would they really do something like that? Could they?"

"Would they? I don't know. I've never heard of anything remotely like this being done - nothing involving civilians for sure. But nothing like you either. But maybe this is where they land without a playbook only two months in? It would be a way to keep you to a timeline they could control. If you knew about it or recognized the pattern. Shit. Did they know I was going to remember this and tell you? _Fucking precogs anyway._ Technically, if you stayed your original course through time and were there to stop each one, their hands would be clean - at least to them. No deaths. As long as you didn't try to jump back I mean. So blame shifts to you if that happens. But that's one bus. Shooting you in the head breaks that. Not a pattern yet, but something to be aware of I guess - it's a possible trap? I don't know Max."

"That's… I hope that's not what's happening. I mean, shit. That is kindof genius. Fucked up, but… all my rewinds since the bus, I've been really careful not to spin back before that time, just…in case. Fuck. Really limits my jump options… Or forces me back to before any of this kicked off. If I'd talked to you last week and asked you not to push for our independence, would we still be in evaluation mode you think?"

"Yeah, probably." He leaned, back to the ocean, reflection in the glass door. "At least for a little while. But Sam wasn't far behind me on voluntary-sometimes as the only real option. Plus, any extra time for you gives them extra time to plan. Which may not help you or Chloe. You kindof have infinite time through loops and time travel. They have the past couple of months."

"So not worth the trade-off?"

"Probably not, no. But back to your original question - I'd really expect them to go after anything and everything that would give you an easy path back. Lowest hanging fruit is photos."

"How would they know about that?"

"Dmitri? Vankin? Rooftop? Chloe gave a bunch of our guys pictures of you two in case something happened and you had to jump back?"

"Shit. Right. Too many timelines. I lose track of where everything ends up. But I guess it's another inconvenience. I kinda wish we hadn't done that now… But honestly, fuck it. Whatevs."

"Wouldn't have mattered Max. We were watching Chloe's online adventures with photo caches, buying an ad agency, planning spreadsheets, every document, every call - among other things. We didn't know why she was focused on pictures until the rooftop, but this new group - they would have pieced it together eventually even without the Vegas reports."

"How far will they go do you think?"

"I'd assume they'll go after anything they know about, and put people on discovering things they don't. It's a pretty critical loophole to their plans, whatever they are, so you can expect them to put a fair bit of resource behind that effort. Maybe half? Other than anything you're carrying now, I'm not sure you can count on much. There's maybe offline video from anywhere you've shown up in public, but I don't know how you discover or get back to any of that right now?"

"It's okay. I mean, it's irritating, but this is why we have backup plans. And more recently, backup-backup plans."

"I'd be careful Max. Telepaths. Anything Chloe knows, you have to assume they know now too." He turned to face the water.

"Well, if they read her mind, they'll learn that my girlfriend is really fucking smart then. Sorry - day after you guys left. Once we realized there were powered people and agencies and stuff, she worried that her global digital photo-storm plans might not be enough of a guarantee against your kind of scale in the event things soured. So we burned a few hours, she solved it, then made me erase it from the timeline. I'm the only one who knows."

"Yeah, I don't know Max. Like I said, I'd count on what you have. Not much more. You can be read too."

"Learned a few tricks on my own, plus some from Sophie. But I can _always_ go back now, John. And that gives me the confidence to go forward."

"But what if you can't? Hypothetically?"

"I can. But I've been trying to reduce my reliance on hard jumps as I explore other aspects of my powers anyway. I feel like I have more options now. I just…want this done. Back to normal. And we still have a nuke to deal with, if that turns out to be real. Anyway… Okay - Chloe - where would they take her? Where do I find her? Where do I go to get her?"

"Out of the country probably. There are a lot of black sites overseas. Off the grid, invisible spaces. Wasn't ever my area of operation, but I know they exist. Honestly, she could be anywhere, Max. Maybe another reason you can't get a hold of Sophie."

"So what's their play for Chloe? They get in touch, threaten to kill her if I don't fill out their stupid Superfriends Job Application, blah blah?"

"Probably something like that, yeah. Not like talents aren't super rare, so it's a small sample size - but to my knowledge, they've never kidnapped anyone as part of the threat system. That's why they call it _threat_ system. So this might be special for you. Protection for them? I just…don't know. I'm sorry Max. I feel like my playbook for them is probably off too right now."

"Okay. Changing topics. How much did you guys know about our financial networks?"

"Networks? Plural?"

"Perfect. That's what I needed to know. Next…"

* * *

 **Max** had a few additional questions before she disconnected, then threw a hard reverse to right before the call. Tips for getting from New York to Vegas without being discovered? Or at least without encouraging confrontation? And was there anywhere John knew he was going to be at a specific day and time in the next few days? He was helpful on both fronts.

 _Half day in the city - after sleep. Should solve a few things. Out by noon. Back in Vegas by three or so. Need to find Chloe. Need to find Sophie and Hector. Need to sort out that bomb thing. And get the assembled powers to step the fuck back. Okay then. Missions sorted. Intel gathered. Sheep to count._

Max was still worried about Chloe, and what she might be going through right now. But the case John had made for why they'd keep her alive made sense. Satisfied that she knew who and what was really going on, and on the assumption that everything that was going to happen today had already happened, she finally fell into an exhausted but restless sleep.

* * *

 **Chloe** felt like ass. Not all the way conscious, but really fucking uncomfortable. Bouncing around? Buzzing noise. She opened her eyes. _Ow!_

Overwhelmingly bright light leaking in through rough fabric. Something over her. A tarp? _What the shit?_ She tried to move, but the pain was immediate. Hands bound behind her. Ankles too. The straps were tight, and had already broken skin where they rubbed.

 _Fuck._

 _Fuck fuck fuck._

"Hello?" she called out.

"Hello?" she said, louder. Her voice cracked a little, sounded more freaked out than she wanted.

She saw a shadow move between the fabric and light. Someone removed the top of the tarp from her face. A hand spread her eye open, but the sunlight hurt. A man. Ordinary. Yuppie type. Thirties?

"She's coming out." his voice loud, but unconcerned.

Chloe looked around. She was wedged into a small area. Four seats in front of her. Guy in front with giant-ass headphones. Pilot? Is that a propeller in front?

 _Shit. I'm…tied up in a goddamn fucking airplane. Max?_

She looked around, but couldn't see anyone other than the pilot and the eye-poker dude.

Eye poker was fucking with a tupperware container or something. Pulled out a flat, shiny something. Opened it. He reached down, ripped a sticky square off of Chloe's shoulder muscle.

"Ow motherfucker! What the hell?"

He smiled. No malice. Seemed to find her comment funny. "Sorry."

He ripped the flat foil pack, stripped the backing from another sticky patch, and put it on a slightly different part of her arm.

"Where the fuck am I? Who are you? Where are you taking me? _Where's Max?_ "

He took a hold of the canvas, and flipped it casually back over her head.

"Hey! I'm talking to you, asshole!" She tried kicking, but that backfired into a well of pain.

After a minute, she started to feel… Floaty. Warm under her blanket in the sun. Just so comfortable and cozy and warm. Like the oxy she used to get from Frank when she and Rachel would party. But this was more. Stronger. Not unpleasant. Like running on the beach toward her dad as a kid, chased by a new puppy who really loved her more than anything in the world. Max was here with her too. She felt herself drifting. The pain in her limbs melted away. Enveloped by pure love and acceptance and happiness and light. _I love you too Max. We promised. All the islands in all the seas… no matter the storm, we'd always find each other. It's okay. Everyone's here. Everything… We're really really great._

She drifted into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

 **Max** felt herself sink back into the plush leather seat. Her jet's engines kicked to life, pushing them rapidly down the runway, picking up more speed with each passing marker. The whine and vibration increased as the landing gear bounced over the slick bumpy surface below. She looked out through the large oval window beside her. Steam flowed from the wings where de-icing coils warmed the skin, carried behind by the wind of movement. Banks of snow on her side of the runway caught the orange evening glow, reflected back in her eyes in the glass, framed by a blue streak floating in a sea of black. It was Monday afternoon, and the sun was setting west, below the coastal clouds. The plane's nose lifted, the vibration smoothed as the pilot angled up, away and around. She took one last look back at metropolis before passing into the orange-grey mist of the enveloping cloud layer. Finally heading back. She was leaving a day and a half later than she wanted to, but it was unavoidable. She was the only passenger. _Worth it._

She'd gotten up around 4am on Sunday, new energy, head full of plans, until she remembered that it was Sunday. Most of the places she needed to be opened for business were closed. So she reluctantly took Sunday as a down day. _Still can't jump forward_ , she thought. Caught up on rest, food, sorted her thoughts, made plans.

She was still worried about Chloe of course. But they were both part of a bigger game now. What Chloe had called 'the big scary floodlit stage'. And she needed to walk on to it far more prepared this time. She wanted this to be the first and last time for this kind of conflict. And she didn't want a repeat of her breakdown in Vegas when she thought Chloe was truly lost. Knowing they couldn't possibly prevent Max from jumping back now took a lot of that edge off. Gave her the headspace to be more calm. Measured.

But she didn't want to have to keep doing this with each new group that came along. When this was over, it had to be definitive enough so that anyone would think twice about trying it again. She wanted the message to be clear. Simple. Unambiguous. _Don't fuck with us._ But without resorting to mass murder. That would have been the easy way. And would have been over by now as well, she knew. _Still a work in progress on the whole not-murdery plan thingie… Trying to win a war by not killing people. Harder._

When Monday morning rolled around, she was back to a normal body clock again. Fed. Rested. On her mission.

Finances first. Her initial stop was to the first corporate law firm they'd hired to help them with the shell setups and trusts. Some of the broken logins started here. She wanted details. They made her wait for an hour in a conference room on some bullshit excuse before she'd be able to meet with a partner. Police in riot gear showed up to their offices about a half hour after she arrived.

She wound back to the beginning, bypassed reception, appearing directly in the managing partner's office. Initially uncooperative, but now cornered, alone, with baseball sized spheres of frozen time orbiting, carving tubes out of his desk and walls, he showed her the NSL and seizure orders. DHS. DOJ. FBI. Secret Service. _Material aid to a terrorist organization. Assets forfeit. Dangerous fugitives_ , blah blah blah. There was no real reason for them to try to stand up to that kind of weight. She understood that. By going after the law firm and the trusts, they were able to get everything Max and Chloe had set up through them in one go.

It was a loss to their empire. But not crippling by itself. She knew it would be something like this, but she wanted the signatures on the documents. Names. For later.

Fortunately, Chloe had been paranoid enough to argue for compartmentalization. So from the beginning, they'd split assets in seven directions, seven corporate law firms, each unaware of the others, each shell and trust structure isolated, some based entirely outside the US for diversification purposes. The first under joint control. Three more under Max's control. Three under Chloe's. Safety first. In all of their adventures so far, they'd only ever used the assets from the first shared corporate accounts. _Now in the hands of the feds._

The other six sets of holdings had been allowed to silently grow under management of their respective trusts. Chloe had also been paranoid enough to ensure that she and Max memorized the credentials and authentications for their respective mini-empires while remaining ignorant of each other's. They ranged in value from high hundreds-of-millions to billions.

Max rewound her interactions with the first law firm. No need to broadcast her locations. She caught a cab to the second unrelated firm across town - the only other they'd used in New York. She really hoped that this financial structure was still intact. She was the only one who knew the trust IDs, account numbers or aliases. If this had been similarly compromised, she really would be back at square one, and would have no choice but to hop in with the luggage and hope for the best once she arrived.

She used the rewind to erase any possible surveillance trail between locations. It wouldn't be perfect, but she wanted to leave as small a footprint as possible until she wanted to appear. _Like a wizard, as Chloe would say. Chloe…I'm coming for you. Promise._

After authenticating with partners under the appropriate alias, she was able to get immediate access to several liquid accounts, and through that, discretion over the trust if she chose. One of the partners went with her to a private bank where she gained vouched entry to one of her emergency safety deposit boxes. Several sets of IDs, cards, passports, cash. She removed her new alias, _Marabel Wren_ , leaving the spares behind for now. They had caches like this in each of the cities around the world where they had a corporate law firm or private bank accounts, in addition to Vegas, of course. The documents had all been handled for them. Money had been a wonderful tool for making things happen. Once again, she was thankful that a little bit of David had rubbed off on Chloe, and for her networking skills with a Pringles tube - and most of all for the two weeks of intense prep they'd done on first arriving in Vegas.

Her alias came with a backstory. Daughter of a hedge fund founder, based in London. She was attending school in Paris, vacationing in the US. All of the photo IDs showed Marabel with black hair.

New credit cards, IDs and passport in hand, she set out to change her appearance slightly - just enough to sync with her new alias and throw off casual human observers. She expected to trip face recognition AI at some point, but short of surgery, specialized makeup, or regular rewinds, there wasn't much she could do there besides chunky sunglasses. This should get her through a few days without recognition. That was hopefully all she needed.

Her personal concierge set her up with a black car for the morning, and recommended several boutique clothing stores and set up a salon appointment that would help her fit with her new identity. She made sure they only used temporary washout-color for the black, leaving the blue section of her bangs alone. Most of her hair was pulled back into a pony-tail, with bangs and the longer wispy side streamers framing her face. The salon had also provided her everything she'd need for a slightly different makeup palette - still minimal, but more blacks and blues, replacing her usual browns and oranges.

It was still cold in New York, and would be cold elsewhere as well, so she opted for a mix of fashion and function. Classic knee length tailored black dress, black tights and black mid-calf leather boots, with a heavy black fabric overcoat. Blue scarf. Gigantic dark bug-glasses. Dangly earrings and subtle costume necklace appropriate for the daughter of a billionaire hedge fund founder with access to her daddy's private jet. A few other similar pieces for a week of mixing and matching.

None of it was really her color or style — _or non-style according to Chloe_ — but that was the point. She caught her reflection leaving the last boutique, and even she didn't realize it was her for a second. It would have to do.

The car took her to the airport, where she met up with her new private jet. _Daddy's girl…_ She'd intended to get back to Vegas, but John was right. Anywhere they'd been was marked. Watched. Besides, she knew Chloe wasn't there.

Max had taken the time on Sunday to hire a PI to quietly look into the hotel and security contractor situation, and passively assess any signs of Chloe's whereabouts. He came back this morning with what she'd expected. Near as the PI could tell, Chloe was abducted by van out on the strip Saturday mid-morning. With their accounts since frozen, the hotel management reclaimed the top floors. Her security contractors were paid in advance through the end of the following week, so they helped move all of their stuff into a secure storage unit across town. The CEO of the security firm was holding on to the key for whenever they returned. Apparently, they'd had rapid exits happen with clients from Europe and the Middle East before. And a few hip hop stars. Common enough they had a procedure for it anyway.

So Max was off to LA instead. At least for a day. She had a surprise date with John and Sam to make at noon, Tuesday. Sam's house. Garage beer. Nukes. Usual lunchtime chat. She still had to figure a way in without being seen, but that was hardly a problem. She needed their help. Putting them at risk wasn't part of the plan.

Back in the present, 41,000 feet above the earth, billionaire heiress Marabel Wren put in her earbuds, assembled a playlist on her new satellite black-phone, and closed her eyes. Beyond the clouds. World below, racing the sunset. Chloe on her mind. And a picked guitar in her head.

A moment of peace. A calm.

* * *

 **Sophie** awoke to find herself alone in a dark room. She couldn't feel any minds, therefor couldn't hear any sounds. She walked the perimeter. Thirty paces one way. Thirty the next. The floor was smooth. Concrete. The walls were the same. They weren't cold. The air was still, but not stale. She couldn't make out any breaks. No windows. No doors. A sink and toilet were against one wall. The ceiling was lost in darkness. She was wearing a hospital gown, open at the back. There was nothing else in the room.

She moved to the center of the room, sat down on the floor with legs crossed. The last thing she remembered was driving through France with Hector. Tom was in the back. Then nothing. No time. No transition. Just…here.

 _Hector?_ His mind was almost as familiar as her own. She hadn't been disconnected from him even once in the past five years they'd been traveling. She felt as though she was missing a limb. An essential part of her, sliced away.

She closed her eyes. If she was going to be stuck here, she'd conserve her energy. _Be at peace. Answers exist. They will reveal themselves in time._ Meditation would help her stay calm. Allow her mind to flow more freely. Maybe pick out distant traces.

But still, she sensed nothing of others.

Truly alone. Deaf. In darkness. For the first time she could remember.

Despite the warmth of the room, she shivered.


	20. City of Angels

**Chloe** sat in the gloom, watching the strip of light under the door to her cell. Counted the minutes between crossing shadows. Averaged every five to six minutes over the past few hours. She was coming down slowly from the drugs they'd given her between Vegas and here. Whereverthefuck here was. She'd been on a small plane for a couple of hours at least. But that was all she could remember. Now her head just hurt. And her wrists and ankles where the skin had broken. She suspected there was something in her food. _It's probably never paranoid to think the worst about your kidnappers…_

She couldn't sleep, and there was no sense of passing time beyond her heartbeat. No windows. No natural light. The food seemed to come at regular eight hour intervals, throwing off any sense of day-night cycle. She felt like she'd been here for a few days, but it was hard to tell. Every four hours, the lights flickered and buzzed to life. On for four hours, then off again. Endlessly repeating. It felt a little like the time intervals were getting shorter, but that could just be her senses fogging up in here.

 _Probably right out of the 'how to fuck with prisoners' handbook… assholes._

She had plenty of time to take in her surroundings though. Small cell, maybe ten feet cubed. Concrete walls, floor, ceiling. All painted dark grey. Metal door. Bed was a thin foam mattress on a rounded concrete shelf cantilevered out from the wall. Sink and toilet were one stainless steel unit in the corner. The lights were above, one in each corner of the ceiling behind thick plastic. On the wall next to the door was flat screen monitor, recessed back into the concrete, behind a thick panel of the same thick clear plastic - like the kind you'd see in a city bank. The monitor had a camera built in near the top, dot glowing green. Beyond that, there wasn't much of anything. Nothing to make tools out of. Nothing to use to climb or dig with or whatever.

Chloe was alone with her thoughts. And alone without Max. It wasn't just coming down off the drugs, she decided. Her Max Detector was showing clear signs of 'No Max'; the combination expressed as a sort of anxious pivot between unrelated moods, colorlessness, with variable intensity. She ranged from indignant to anxious to fearful to utterly fearless, with almost no transition. She was spinning. The axis of it was the same.

She knew that Max would find her, and would undo any horrible shit that happened. Eventually. But she also knew that she'd still experience any of the horrible shit that might happen while still in the first pass through time - and it was hard to know which she was in now. _Knowing that bad shit will be erased later doesn't make it any less fucking real the moment it's happening…_ Whatever _it_ was. Whoever they were. Whatever the fuck they wanted. They hadn't bothered to make contact of any sort with her yet. _Just the light cycles. And food. But it's just a matter of time. Unless maybe I'm lucky, and I'm just…in storage?_

As much as she might want to curl up in a corner, chill and wait to be rescued by Max, she felt an urgency to do everything possible to find a way to help herself. Even if she had no idea what that meant in a place like this. Even if she failed, she knew she had to try. She had faith in Max, but…

 _What had David said once? "Every solider in captivity has a duty to keep their spirits up. To resist. Escape. Evade." Or some bullshit like that._

She didn't even know why he said it to her. She was like sixteen at the time, trying to watch a movie downstairs. Sometimes he got like that though. Autopilot. Responding to stimuli that wasn't there, talking to no one in particular. She totally got why they didn't connect when she was at home, even if she had a new respect for him after learning that he'd saved Max in at least a couple of timelines. But some of the crazy ass shit he'd said over the years was starting to make sense to her now.

 _That's probably not a sign that everything is okay…_

A shadow moved across the crack of light again. Her lights flickered and buzzed back to life.

* * *

 **Max** leaned back against the rock nearest the large water hazard. A group of ducks floated a few feet offshore, their movements breaking reflections off the water's surface, waiting for her to toss more of the pellets in. As she did, they swarmed, bills mashing, heads bobbling up and down to capture the small treats. "Here you go, duck ducks…"

The sun was warm here, but not hot. Green grass stretched in all directions, broken by sand traps, large water features and rolling hills with stands of trees and shrubs. Wildlife was abundant. No squirrels in Vegas, but all manner of birds, fish, cottontail bunnies and mice in this small oasis. The little pocket mice were just the cutest, but they were teeny, and super shy. She'd only ever seen two.

Finally out of duck pellets, she waved goodbye, picked herself up and started back across the expansive lawn toward the back of the hotel, a quarter mile away. They had a coffee shop on the ground floor that she liked, and she wanted to order an iced mocha before heading out.

Two old couples, sharing a golf cart. They seemed happy. A day out with good friends. Max waved, and one of the women waved back with a smile as they passed.

Max walked through the outer gate, into the pool area, on to the back entrance. People of all ages lounging, swimming. Open bar. DJ was playing some inoffensive mellow pop tunes. A little girl ran by, armed with a purple pool noodle, chasing a terrified little boy. They both ended up in the water, splashing, laughing.

The bomb went off. A blinding white light punched through the front entrance, through the lobby and out the back doors in front of her. It was like looking down a million lasers. A tunnel of light and pain. The screams behind her were short lived, overwhelmed by the blast. The hotel tore itself apart with the first pressure wave, killing most, then back inward, taking the rest.

120 million degrees at the center. People stopped being people. Rewind. Effects reverse. Back to the point of origin. Out of view beyond the hotel structure. But close. She could almost see where the bomb was.

It went off again.

Max jerked awake, shaking, arm out, ready to turn back the clock. _Shit…shit. No! Don't!_ She stopped herself, heart pounding. Had she rewound, she would have pushed her jet backward along its path, leaving her to fall from more than forty-thousand feet up. _Shit. That probably would have been…bad._ She rubbed her eyes. _And that's twice that I've dreamt about that explosion now. Twice… Closer to it this time. Two is a pattern._

She hit the touchscreen on the side console. A map popped up with the icon of a plane in the center. She tapped a couple of times to zoom out. Colorado. Two more hours before they'd land in LA.

Still shaken, she looked out over the snowy mountains below, tried to distract herself. _What would even happen? If I'd rewound here… I'd fall, probably die, trigger the death rewind, and then what? I'd stay where I landed. Right. But when I came out of the rewind, would I still be going fast? Would I still squish again? Or not? If it was just me, the momentum should burn out on the first hit. Could I control that on the way down? Softer landing? What would happen if I went into a freeze before I hit? Would I still hit? Where would I rewind to if I died in a freeze? Shit. This is making my head hurt again…_

 _If Chloe was here, we'd talk about this for the next two hours._

 _Or two minutes until she found a way to get me to try it…_

 _Where are you Chlo?_

 _Hope you're okay. I know I'm taking the long way around, but I am coming to find you. Swear. You were the one who made me promise not to lose myself. Not go dark. So I'm trying to find a way through all this that will make you proud. Make…us proud. I just…I hope they're treating you okay. They'd fucking better be treating you okay. Even if it all gets undone, I hope you're not hurting in the here and now._

 _I can rewind it all. But that doesn't mean I don't care what happens._

Max looked out the window, focusing first on the reflection of her own worried face. Then beyond.

She watched the world spin by in darkness below, amber lights in curved lines and clusters. Roads and towns. Cities.

 _Like neurons. Or galaxies. Everything is connected…_

* * *

 **Michaels** sipped the too-bitter home brew. It was…well…too bitter. But Samuel seemed proud, so Michaels grimaced inwardly and continued to drink. They'd made catch-up smalltalk out in the garage, where Sam had run him through the language of hops and the operations of the three-tank gas brew-stand. It was anchored to a corner of his garage, awkwardly wedged between the wall and a minivan bumper.

They were both engaged in the conversation, but the prep for the real one was taking place behind the scenes. Subtle cues in voice tone, emphasis, eye contact, posture and body language on certain words… Michaels could tell Sam was concerned about the present situation, but resigned. For all his hard professionalism, his bland forged persona, there was still a man underneath. And even if they _had_ started out as a sort of decoration for his cultivated non-identity, Michaels knew Sam had grown to truly love his family over the years. He'd never admit it, but it couldn't help but complicate things for him.

They eventually went in, Sam leading the way to his study. Michaels took a seat on the oversized red leather button-sofa, while Sam closed the door, went for the matching executive chair behind his old-school wooden desk.

"So what's on your mind John?" said Sam. To the point.

"Unfinished business." Michaels didn't bother with any of the background questions about Roland, or Sam's interactions with him last Saturday. He wouldn't get a complete answer, and it didn't really matter for the problem at hand. "Max's dream nuke… We need to do what we can about this…"

Sam took a sip, leaned back and exhaled. "What do we think? Could she be right?"

"Girl's a time traveler." Michaels shrugged. "Don't know the mechanism that connects the dream to the future, but our intercepts between Max and Chloe reference similar visions leading up to that disaster in Oregon. She's one for one so far."

"If she's seeing something that will come to pass, and we get involved, are we getting in the way of the official efforts of everyone with a reason to still be on the clock?" Sam asked. "Does it explode because we interfere? Or because we don't? Do we know?"

Michaels knew that Sam would often ask questions adversarially, without necessarily having a position on the answers yet. Just to get them out there. "I've knocked on a lot of doors in the last day, and this is new chatter to everyone. Is there anyone looking at this besides us?"

"Is there an us? Thought this was just you so far?"

"Is there not an us?" _What's he playing at? We're talking about a fucking nuke in a US city?_

"There's an us." Said the woman in black, appearing in the space between Michaels and the door. Sam and John were both on their feet in an instant, guns drawn.

* * *

 **Max** removed her bug glasses, smiled at John, nodded at Sam. "Hey John. Sam. Sorry for the cosplay. I didn't want to barge in. But it was that, or just walk up and ring the doorbell, and you said Saturday that you were both being watched right now."

John put his gun away, looked at Sam, who did the same. "Max? Okay. Sorry - you looked different. And…we didn't talk on Saturday? Unless…"

"We did. But it's okay now. I brought you back to life." Max took a seat on the arm of the sofa. John shook his head at that as they both sat back down. "Like I said, I'm really sorry to interrupt, but…I need help, and I'm not sure who else to go to?"

John spoke first. "Max, I'm not sure what's going on. I mean, I have an idea, but, whatever it is specifically, I'm sorry you're going through it. What can we…"

Sam put up a hand to John and jumped in. "I hope you can appreciate that even talking with you about your current troubles violates a file cabinet worth of signed agreements, and puts us in a precarious place, Max? You being here, in my home, is putting me and my family at risk. We're both of us obligated by law and contract terms to report this meeting up the chain. Not that I necessarily condone anything that's transpired, but whatever actions are being undertaken, the people issuing the orders have the authority, and the belief that they're doing so for the good of the nation…"

"If you say so… Does that mean you won't help?" _Might have to rewind all of this and catch John on his own later if Sam's gonna continue be like this. Won't have a secure space to meet though. And he'll be really super useful with the bomb. Push through it again. The grownuppy, professional sounding voice and language works better with him. Like the first phone call with Chloe from Vegas about the Russians. It also seemed to work better when I threatened people above him a little bit at the start. Misplaced, but a loyalty thing maybe. He softens up once I back off a little. But not too far._

Sam responded. "I didn't say that. Not…yet. I just want you to understand that whatever you're asking us to listen to might be considered conspiracy and treason by people who have enough power to make those into real charges against us. In the best case. Even talking with you is crossing a big line of no return."

Max gave the appearance of considering his words for a moment. "Okay Sam, I'm sorry. Although, I'd happily challenge the legal basis for any of what's been done to us so far. Anyone serious about calling either of you out for treason for talking to me would also need to navigate an accounting of why Chloe and I are considered state-level enemies in the first place, right? We could have those conversations in a more public way I guess, if we're at a stage where I have nothing more to lose? Forced rendition of a photogenic 19-year-old orphan girl, an Arcadia disaster survivor no less? Attempted extrajudicial assassinations of an 18-year-old all-American small-town hero with dreams of becoming a famous photographer? How's that gonna play out in editorials or the news? Or across social media?" _Since we're not really here for a friendly chat…_

Sam put up a hand of surrender.

Max continued after a pause. "But we're getting ahead of ourselves. I'm in a bad place, and I apologize. This conversation isn't about me. Not totally. Hear me out maybe, and after, if you guys don't want to help, I'll…understand. And I'll go back and make it so this conversation never took place. No one, including you, will ever know, and I won't have put anyone at risk. Is that okay?"

"Alright Max. I apologize for the harsh formality of it all, but it's important that we all know where we're all coming from. This isn't just popping by for a friendly chat." Sam leaned back, ceding the floor.

John gave her a more supportive nod to continue.

Max had run through this conversation twenty-three times so far, with a few breaks to look things up online, make herself smarter about this or that. Not counting all the minor rewinds to explore the odd conversational branch or practice something new… This is the point where they always diverged though. She thought she almost had it nailed last round. _One more go…_

"I have three related problems, and one unrelated. First, my life has been taken away and I'm being hunted by your replacements, on the order of your former employers, who seem all too happy to just kill me, with heavy civilian casualties being an acceptable price. Second, Chloe is missing, most likely a prisoner of these same people. Third, Sophie and Hector are missing, also presumed captured by someone. They'll intend to use Chloe as leverage over me so they can control my powers for whatever purposes."

"Just to interject Max, we probably won't be able to help at all here. We were taken off your project. The people upstairs brought in an escalation team for this exact purpose. You're an unprecedented asset to them, and we have no ability to influence the outcome." Sam leaned back again.

Max mustered her best poker face. "Sam, I feel I need to be clear. We're _not_ a project. And I'm not _their_ asset. Your former employers showed me everything I needed to know about them the moment they took Chloe. So that's over. You're all _very_ lucky that I'm trying to keep a promise and haven't given in to my anger yet… But please, understand…I'm not asking you to help me with _my_ problems. I could solve them myself in an hour - if I was willing to deconstruct your superiors molecule by molecule, while slowing their perception of time to make that experience last ten-thousand years. But I'd rather not _start_ there without exploring other options first. That's all on me."

John found her eyes, and gave her a subtle squint that only she could see. _He knows me better than that, but he's keeping his mouth shut this time. Perfect._ Sam, on the other hand, hadn't met Max face to face before today, and he looked something other than completely poker-faced for once. Possibly even uncomfortable. But she already knew what he was thinking, and several flavors of how he'd react later, depending on how the rest went. _Time to start moving from hardlineMax to helpfulMax…_

Max continued. "But all of this is happening against the backdrop of our real problem. This is where I need your help. Or you need mine. Or half a million people need ours, maybe. I'm reasonably certain someone is going to detonate a 15 kiloton improvised nuclear device on a street corner in Las Vegas on the 17th of this month. 150,000 people will die in the first six days after the attack. Another quarter of million over the next twenty years from the residual effects of radiation. The global economy will take a big hit, creating years of additional economic suffering. And another two million will die in the next fifteen years of escalating, but chaotic and unfocused wars. In some ways, this would be the simplest one for me to deal with solo, if nothing else were going on."

Sam's face paled a little. John looked grim. She knew they'd both been thinking about this. At least in the abstract.

"How…sure are you about this Max?" John asked. "I mean, really?"

"I can tell you the street corner." she said. _Getting closer._

Sam asked "Do you have names? Of who's responsible? Could you see that? Do they have the ability to produce more bombs? Are there other attacks planned? Other cities? Do you know where they are now?"

"I don't know any of that, no. The visions were mostly focused on the bomb's detonation, with some residual sense of casualties and after effects. I don't know who exactly. Not yet. All I know is where, and what day it happens."

John turned to Sam. "You're thinking beyond the bomb itself. Going after the cells and support?"

"Of course - if we can." Sam replied. "Max - you said you could deal with the bomb in some way? What did you mean by that?"

"If I can get to it, I can isolate it. Separate it from normal time, I mean. Prevent it from going off. Push it out into space if I have to." For the first time, each time, she thought Sam looked a little surprised.

He thought for a moment, and said "As fascinating as…that sounds, orbit is probably the wrong place to send a live nuke. The electro-magnetic pulse might take out parts of the power grid, fry electronics across some portion of country, pacemakers, data centers, aircraft, maybe put part of the GPS or satellite networks at risk as well… Among other things."

John picked up the thread. "But if the device could be kept from triggering, safely disabled and moved, forensics could do their thing, and we might be able to get enough off it to link it to identities, money trail, and certainly country or plant of origin on the nuclear materials themselves…"

Sam added "Right. Once we have the device itself, we can also walk back the surveillance trail to fill in the gaps. Where was it, who touched it, how did it move around the country, or into the country, depending. Trace back the components, materials, cross reference with any of the above…this could be a tidy little package of evidence. Bad guys can't build one of these in their garage by themselves."

"I'm assuming our specialist EOD guys, plus a few experts to deal with the permanent disarming? Do we want them doing that in the downtown area, or do we move it out to the desert first?" asked John. "Just in case?"

"Depends on the trigger mechanism. Baseline design would probably be a cellular trigger with timer backup, maybe some mercury or motion sensors after it's armed to prevent pickup? So that would mean in place, unfortunately. Expect a side-show."

John looked at Max. "If you were able to stop the bomb, would it literally be stopped in time? Meaning, would it be safe to move or interact with it without danger? Would our bomb squad guys be able to work on it in that state?"

"If it's frozen in time, I mean, it's literally frozen in time. Nothing can happen to it, or with it. Downside is that no one would be able to touch it. Not without maybe losing arms or probably dying?"

"So how does that help us Sam? She can stop it, great. But if we can't move it or touch it, what…does she stand there keeping it frozen in time forever?"

Max knew the answers to all of this, but it was important they they lead themselves through this next part.

"If it's a 15kt device, how big would it be? Using modern tech, reasonably sophisticated shaping and charges? If you had to guess?" Sam asked John.

"Well, I'm no expert, but that's only about, what, ten pounds of nuclear material at a poor fractional yield? Most of the mass of the device would be in the supporting frame, conventional explosives and shape charge backstops controlling the push of nuclear material into the core. If it was reasonably compact, mechanically simple, using aluminum or titanium, we're talking maybe a 40-50-pound backpack at the lower end? Maybe less if they were using a fusion/fission device, but I've never heard of anything that compact in a hydrogen bomb. That's next level. Maybe up to refrigerator size if they're using something simpler like a gravity drop rail or something, right?"

"I could move it."

John stopped, looked at Max and asked "How much can you lift?"

She tilted her head forward, looked at John with eyebrows raised. For whatever reason, this look plus the gym ref to come made Sam to take a better path through the next few questions. _So close…_ "I don't know John - look at me. It's not like I've spent a lot of time bulking up at the gym?" She smiled. Waited.

John laughed a little. Sam smiled. _Gotcha._

"But seriously guys, I don't need to " _lift it"_ lift it. I'll just freeze it and bring it wherever you want."

They both looked puzzled. "I'm sorry Max. Could you explain?" asked Sam.

"Not everything works the same when time is stopped. I can prevent it from exploding, and I can move it anywhere you want it. Don't need to get into the mumbo jumbo of how, but I've done it with an entire RAF Tornado, and it was supersonic when I grabbed it. Way heavier than what you're talking about. Doesn't matter if it's a backpack or a truck or whatever. I can totally do this."

Sam and John looked at each other. Sam said "Christ - we wouldn't need a big team at all if that were possible. No big show, no mobilization, no media circus, no public panic. No big agencies or politicians posturing for the camera, no endless news cycles. And no terror."

John added "…and no public demand for retaliation."

Sam continued. "Right. The follow-on conflicts she mentioned would happen even if it didn't go off… _if_ it was public knowledge. But just a few guys with expertise hanging out in the safety of the desert with a mobile workspace. Off camera. One or two teams to secure the area around that? Have the forensic guys and maybe a few locator talents right there ready to go. We could maybe even get the cells responsible, John. And upstream support. Send out one or two-man teams, unplug a few bad guys. Quietly."

"No one would even know that it happened." John acknowledged. He turned to Max. "The whole objective of terrorism is to create terror, right? So even if the nuke doesn't go off, public knowledge that it ever existed, of how close it had been, would achieve some large measure of their goals. It's more about the psychological effects than the actual damage with WMDs. The attempt _is_ the attack. But if no one knows, no one is terrorized. Mission fail for the bad guys. God, it could be so much cleaner this way. If you're on board with this whole thing Max? There's probably no way we can do it _this_ quietly without your help."

"Yeah - I mean, maybe save half a million people? Or more? Head off half a dozen wars? That's not really a serious question, is it? It's the main reason I risked coming here in person."

John leaned forward a bit. "And the other reasons, at least a little? I'm…still not sure what we can do to help on those Max. These decisions are way above our pay grade. I hope that your help in Vegas isn't contingent on Sam and I doing the impossible?"

"No - of course not." She gave him the annoyed look. "I'm in. I have my own plan for the impossible that I'm starting after I leave here today. But here's the one thing I'd like to ask. You guys know of a team of experienced operational people who are currently unemployed… Can you check to see if they'd be open to freelancing for a month to find a missing person?" Max smiled cautiously. "I really could use help finding Sophie and Hector. Since they're not technically part of the Max & Chloe Outlaw Street Gang Club, maybe it's grey enough that you'd be willing to help? I can fund a full effort…"

"I thought you were broke? Assets frozen, that sort of thing?" John said, genuinely puzzled.

Max did her best impression of Chloe's impish grin, held it for a beat. "Not even close."

"Huh. Okay." John looked at Sam, then back to Max. "But…if I can ask, why complicate things by going after Sophie and Hector? I mean, right now, with everything else going on? You hardly know them?"

Max tried a new answer. This was the final gap to overcome. The last puzzle piece of the conversation she'd been working toward. _Bring it home Maximousse._ "Well, it's an idle team anyway, right? And I said 'find', not 'go after'. Just so there's no confusion. Look, Sophie and Hector have been kind to us. I'd…like to think of them as friends, and I'd just feel so terrible if anything happened to them because of us. I…I need to know where they are. Need to know that they're okay, you know? It's important to me John. I feel responsible. This is just recon though. Health check, not an extraction."

It wasn't a lie; it just wasn't the whole truth. She'd do the extracting. Sam always advised against helping Sophie when Max linked her and her gift to finding Chloe. Or when Max asked that they try to bring her and Hector back. The conflict of interest, and danger, were obvious to Sam in either case when framed that way. But then, he still believed his employers would be his employers this time next year. Max knew better. There was no way Team Max could co-exist with _them_. Not now. Not after this. But that was a problem for _after_ everyone was back safely.

"How would this work?" John asked, more of Sam than Max.

Sam seemed like he was already ahead. "If we green light this, I think it's got to be split into two teams? One prepped and focused exclusively on the nuke, the other spins off to find Sophie, right? The first one, we can get away with. No one is going to argue against stopping a terrorist attack with a WMD on a major city. The source of the intel muddies it, but we can call it a lost intercept with uncertain provenance or something after the fact. Keep Max way behind the scenes until it's her turn maybe? Or invisible altogether if she can manage to stay hidden throughout? But, I mean, even if she's acknowledged as part of the team after, they'd have to give us a pass if we pull this off."

"Sophie's trickier." said John. Stating the fact.

Sam agreed. "We'd be splitting some very fine hairs. You and I both know how this reads. Unregistered talent, affiliated with a priority acquisition target, and we're off the clock poking around trying to find her after being relieved from the same assignment? They'd string us up just the same. Hard to keep our involvement secret if they have any talents watching her."

Max piped in. "Guys, what if you had an _anonymous_ source of funding who brought you this assignment? Say, to find the unregistered talent affiliated with the priority acquisition target - believed to be in the hands of a secret cabal of rogue talents somewhere in the world? You could maybe 'assume' it was an unnamed superior with a side-interest? Team doesn't know it's me behind the checkbook?"

"Sam?" asked John.

"Your call John. It's your team, and none of you work for me."

Max looked at John.

John nodded back.

 _Aaaand mic drop. Boom._

 _Not everything I want, but 80%. We save a shitload of people in Vegas, the guys find me Sophie and Hector, I can get them out myself the same way we rescued Tom, then Sophie can help me find Chloe, then we rescue her… I'll let them set it all in motion as a backup in case things later today don't pan out. But not bad for 18 hours of work? Ugh. I so need a nap after all of this…_

They both nodded. Sam spoke. "John, why don't you take two teams, a few admins, and get the new company shell up and running for the recon on Sophie? Work with Max to get the infusions you'll need to get the job done?"

"Here." Max pulled out a pen and a hot pink sticky note. She wrote out a bank name, a fifteen-digit account number and authorization code to a standalone fund in the Caymans with twenty-five million parked in it, handed it to John.

"Are you sure you don't need help on the IND?" John asked, taking the sticky.

"I'll have more than enough help on the bomb. One call to a friend on the Hill and we're up and funded with a light skeleton crew. Honestly, with this setup, there's not much for you to do John. We both know this would be the largest terror attack in history. It should already be DHS territory, with other agencies fighting for co-lead, but as you found, no one's on it yet. Which means no intercepts, no chatter, no signs that anything is amiss. And our circumstances, from threat intel source to solution are…unique to say the least." He looked at Max. "With Max securing the device, it's all pretty straightforward on the ground. We could do this out of a Winnebago. I'll round up the desert team, EOD, nuclear and talents. I'll probably want some form of official, but minimal, DHS or FBI forensics presence for integrity of the evidence chain. Tick the box. Plus, someone to quietly liaise with law enforcement for any assistance smoothing our cleanup op against cell members or supporters stateside…let State and Treasury go after the financing of it, wherever it came from, once we have more concrete intel. Drone guys can have the overseas targets. It's an executive issue if it turns out to be state sponsored, but that decision can be made on the facts, without the added pressure of a media shitstorm."

He was clearly thinking out loud.

"So we should get started." said John.

"Thanks guys. I'll be in touch soon." said Max.

"Max, how do you want to handle time between now and then? I can try to find you an off-book safe house or…"

And with that, Max smiled, waved and vanished from the room. _Like a ninja._

 _Always know when to end the meeting._ Something Sam had said to her fifteen bad attempts ago…

* * *

 **Max** unfroze the world a mile away and climbed into a cab. "LA Federal Building please?"

As tired as she was after that marathon session, she had one more thing today. She needed a face to face with Roland, the new guy. Well, that, and to tie everyone up and raid their ops floor, computers and offices for clues to where the fuck Chloe was being held. _I heart zip ties so much._ She'd probably erase it, but at the very least, she wanted to see what they had, what they knew, and any other details that might give her an edge against them. And in finding Chloe.

Deal was out of the question. They'd shown what they were.

 _On second thought, maybe I won't rewind it after. Maybe it's time for me to escalate things. Just leave them all tied up in their own operations center. Remove their personal IDs, home addresses, licenses. So they know how serious I am. So they feel vulnerable for a change. So maybe they start to feel afraid - as individual people, in their own heads…_

* * *

 **Chloe** rose from the last of her pushups, did a few quick laps around her small room, jumping on and off the bed platform when she was on that side for a little extra. She propped the mattress against the wall near the door earlier, so it was blocking the monitor and camera. Fuck em. Someone would have to talk to her eventually. Someone here, anyway. They had a key if it was that big a deal.

Exhausted, she finally stretched out on the concrete sleeping platform. Concrete felt cool now. Wearing herself out was the only way she'd been able to control her sleep cycle with the fucky light schedule they had her on. And after the first day, she realized the endorphins from the workouts were helping to even out her moods. She was still a little all over the map, but nothing unexplainable by her circumstances. With limited options for stimulus, moving was one of the only things she could do to take back some initiative. Sitting there made time crawl, amplified her worries and generally made her feel like shit.

She was sore now, but it was something she could feel. Something real that she'd earned. _I'm so out of goddamn shape, it's…not even funny._

The monitor on the wall came to life twice. The first time was three cycles ago… that's what she was calling each full period of light and dark. She couldn't tell if they were still four hours each anymore, but close enough. If one cycle of on and off was still about eight, that meant it had been a day. It was short. She didn't even know if the people at the other end were in the same place she was. A man and a woman. They looked normal for kidnapping assholes. Asked her basic questions. Name, how long she'd been here. How was she feeling. That had been it. She asked where she was, where Max was, what they wanted. Suggested they let her go while they still could. The screen had gone dark after the last of their questions, but the green light of the camera stayed on.

The next time it turned on, it was to a room full of people. Office of some kind. Rows of desks, computers. No audio. Went dark a few minutes later.

She didn't know what the point was, but she was tired of playing. If there was one thing in this world she was good at, it was acting like a sarcastic, bitchy pain in the ass toward watchful authority figures.

She knew she was just putting up a brave front by acting out. But it helped boost her morale while she waited. For an opportunity. For them to… _do what exactly_? Deep down, she knew that it would be Max. _It's just a matter of time._ That still made her smile. She felt better after her mini-rage workout.

She drifted to sleep for a while. Nothing real, just a catnap. She came back at the sound of a man's voice. The monitor was on behind the mattress. She could see the blueish white glow around the edges. She ignored it.

* * *

 **Roland** took his seat at the conference table. _Why are the precogs always fucking late?_

 _Of all people. I bet if I shot the late ones next meeting, they'd see it coming and find a way to be here on time._ Other execs were seated around the table, but they'd give them a few more minutes before starting.

While he waited, he shuffled through analyst reports from Chloe's interrogations. Before the first day was out, they had everything they needed to neutralize and work Max. Powers, personality, resources. Everything.

More than Sam had been able to deliver in months. Everything Chloe knew about Max's powers, her limits, how they behaved, how to prevent her from using them, speculations, experiments, everything.

In addition to all the things you could know about a person after a lifetime of friendship. That was the real treasure to Roland. Knowledge of how Max thinks. How she'll behave. What life events made her her. What buttons to push. Where she's strong or weak. Where she doesn't know she's strong or weak. Blind spots. Everything. Everything that makes her tick as a person in any situation. It's impossible to replicate a lifetime of firsthand observation. Chloe had been the perfect spy. Unaware that her happiest memories gave up everything about her best friend.

They took the legs out from under her safety nets as soon as they'd pulled the information out of Chloe's head. Wasn't difficult. They had ninety percent of it from the surveillance and monitoring. She tried a few tricks, but you can't hide information from yourself. Caches. Dead drops. Photo safeties. All gutted. Every student from every school that crossed paths with Max over the years found themselves the victim of a rash of B&Es, arson, general theft or destruction. Not a single yearbook with Max's picture remained in the wild. Total scorched earth strategy across physical and digital media sources. One example of many. They were nothing if not comprehensive. She had nowhere to go but forward. _Boat burned._

They already knew there were other financial accounts, but none of that mattered. Chloe couldn't reach hers from where she was, and she didn't know Max's. But what did that buy? So Max doesn't fly commercial? Still on radar. He'd read the reports from the UK as well. They had every talent working this. And things were going better than he expected for a few days in. So much better than his team believed, anyway.

It hadn't been easy. He'd done so many horrifically monstrous things over his career to get where he was. All of it had changed him. But here he was. Right where he needed to be, at a moment in history when it really mattered.

Roland knew that from the outside, to everyone here at least, he was entirely two dimensional. Cliche sales guy politician dickhead. Not a lightweight, but not complicated. The predictable ambitious attractive type-A old-money charming asshole hurtle-the-wounded archetype, with an LA infused Ivy League pedigree and a London tailor. A handful he'd ever met knew better. Or at least strongly suspected. A handful that had gone through similar transformations, if onward to other destinations.

Samuel knew. Well, he didn't know - not really. But Sam recognized the signs. Had to. At least enough to suspect that Roland's persona was just as much a work of artifice and expertise as his own had been. The expression of it was where they diverged. But they were each the end product of a long process of design, training, thoughtful effort and ongoing maintenance to control the perceptions of others. Sam's was designed to minimize him in all ways. Roland's was designed to enlarge. Both were deflections. Both gave people a cultivated experience. Forget. Dismiss. Despise. Roll your eyes, but keep going. Once people think they know what to expect, they usually stop paying attention.

Sam used it to become invisible.

Roland used it to become invisible as well.

But Roland's persona was created to be bigger and bolder than Sam's. It's why he'd get different results. He could make the big moves. Take big risks. It fit with his character. Sam was where he was needed when caution and covert action were most important. Roland was brought in to achieve a different end. And that's what he'd deliver. She wouldn't understand until after it was over.

The door opened, bringing his thoughts back to the briefing. Two precogs and a locater walked in, joining the executive staff already here, waiting. _I think I'll shoot the one who shows up last tomorrow_ , he thought. _Let's see if they're really worth what we pay them._

* * *

 **Max** 's cab was still sitting in traffic two hours later. The Federal Building was miles away. Too many cars. Too many lights. Too many people. Too little movement. Even the cops where having a hard time getting around by the sound of it. _LA._

The cab driver had some nonsensical talk radio program on. Conspiracy focused mostly. _You're not wrong_ , she thought. _Just not correct._ Hosts cut short their new theme of 'illegal aliens taking jobs at Area 51' to discuss a piece of local breaking news. Took her a minute of half listening to realize they were talking about a subway shooting less than a block from here. _Shit. That's what all the sirens and traffic are about?_

 _…Three gunmen…automatic weapons…body armor…masks…opened fire on the crowded platform between trains, fifteen minutes ago. Running gun battle down the track tunnels with police… more than seventy wounded…thirty-four confirmed dead…including thirteen children who were part of a class field trip to the Natural History Museum…a spokeswoman for LAPD then said…_

Max paid the cab driver, got out of the car.

"Goddammit." She wove through stopped cars to the sidewalk, remembering the conversation with John over the weekend. Their maybe-plans to keep her on track.

"Didn't expect that to be so fucking literal." She walked around the corner, looking for an entrance to the subway system. Either it was a planned event to keep Max from jumping back, or a reactive one to keep her from getting to the Federal Building. Or it was a completely random situation, and she just happened to be here.

 _Doesn't matter._

 _Doesn't change what needs to be done._

 _Those people down there didn't ask for any of this, and they need real help._

 _I'm already wearing black. Time to meet BatMax, motherfuckers…_


	21. City of Demons

**Warning:** Story hits a dark patch toward the end of the chapter (marked again just prior)...

* * *

 **Max** already stopped the gunmen three times. But it still wasn't right.

The first, she rewound to when they walked onto the subway platform. The moment they went to their duffels for masks and weapons, she slowed the world and gave them a BatMax style beatdown at 10x normal speed. Not enough for shockwaves, but more than fast enough to amplify the power of her hits, avoid theirs and generally leave them completely unable to defend themselves. In the end, they were black and blue, out cold, but alive. They also hadn't fired a shot, and their duffels were nowhere near where they fell, so no one knew what they'd been about to do. The police who arrived were far more interested in her than them.

The second time, she blended with the crowd. As they opened fire into the mass of people with automatic weapons, she caught the bullets in their own tiny bubbles of frozen space, rotated them 180 degrees, and let them go just as rapidly as the guns fired. Each bullet traveled back home to the man who released it. While perhaps more poetic, not all of the bullets hit their body armor. In the end, the gunmen were all dead, apparent victims of a three-way subway gunfight among themselves. Better, but still not ideal.

Third pass, she held the rewind, following them back to their car in a multi-level garage away from the subway entrance. She walked up when they were still putting on their body armor. Her intent was to give them a stern talking to, or at least find out what she could about who they were, if they'd been sent specifically to distract her. But to her surprise, once they saw her walking up, they put everything back in the trunk, got in and drove away. They obviously recognized her. Which confirmed her worst suspicions about them. They were here to make sure she was here. But this particular path of hers let them drive away free men. After murdering so many. Or before murdering so many? Would these same guys be at the next crime scene too?

Max knew this was an easy win for everyone in that subway platform. But it was also a win for _them_. It just rubbed her the wrong way. It wasn't even so much the manipulation of her timeline, as annoying as that was. It was the looks on their faces when they saw her. Like nothing. Just…business.

In any timeline where she didn't interfere, these men would go on to murder thirteen children, along with thirty-five other people. Wounding up to eighty, plus whatever happened with the cops after the point she first rewound. And it was all business as fucking usual to them? Just a job?

 _These guys are a special kind of asshole. Fuck that._

She rewound one more time. She wanted them caught in the act, but but didn't want anyone hurt. She knew there were cameras down here, but assumed that the team watching her would have control of them, so they wouldn't be any good. She needed cameras they didn't control. In the moment. Something that could be used as evidence against these men, and would be harder to erase.

Only thing that made sense was also the worst idea she'd ever had.

 _Something viral._

 _Ugh._

It was a _huge_ risk.

Life changing.

Maybe even history altering.

 _On the other hand, altering history is like my one and only job skill._

Playing by their rules wasn't helping her or Chloe much. Being predictable caused made them think shit like all of this was a good idea. As much as she tried to avoid it with the bus in the UK, and as common sense as it was to keep this hidden from the world, maybe it was time to use it here. If she wasn't willing to kill the shooters, it was one of the few options left that saved lives while holding them accountable. If they were gonna change the game on her, maybe she had no choice but to change it on them.

 _Eh. Just for fun. I can always spin back._

* * *

 **Max** was back in position; to the side of the archway they'd walk through. She let them pass her. The closest went for the zipper on his bag. She let him open it, then froze the world. She walked over, peeked into the bag. Guns. Extra magazines, all full. Flashlight. Some sort of medical kit. And what she was looking for. The face mask. Thin stretchy foam, designed to cover from the lower face from the bridge of the nose to the neck, securing in the back with velcro. White skull design on black foam. She took it.

That, plus her bug glasses. Dressed in black. Black hair pulled back, blue streak in front. _Have to do._ Took her a few tries to get the timing of everything just right. This was theater now.

She positioned herself within the crowd, let time roll. The men were about thirty feet away. She watched as two out of three put on their masks in preparation. The third was still looking through his bag. Surrendering, he motioned to the others, shaking his head. One threw him a black scarf from a pocket.

 _It's go time._

Spread out on one end with a full view down the length of the platform, they removed their weapons. A child, closer, saw the guns come out and screamed. Max ran this whole scene out in slow motion, mask on.

She dove out of the crowd toward the gunmen in a forward roll, continuing her momentum on the rise up with a push into a slow horizontal barrel roll the instant they opened fire. Arms out, her long jacket pinwheeled dramatically with her movements as she turned.

The crowd scattered at the first crack of gunfire, some diving to the ground, others off the side onto the tracks below the platform, all screams and panic and flight response. Still others went for pillars or trashcans or any sort of cover they could find. A few froze up, either refusing to understand what they were seeing, or too scared to move and uncertain what to do. She felt for them. _That totally would have been me as recently as my entire life ago…_

She continued her rotation into the line of fire, arms held out to the sides for effect as she twirled her body around in slow motion like a ninja ballerina, catching each bullet in a three-inch sphere of motionlessness. This time, she stopped them mere feet in front of the people they were intended to hit. Held them there. Let them pile horizontally in space. The men continued to fire, all of their bullets ending in glistening refractive orbs. She let them stack up in midair like a freeze frame image of a thousand glass ornaments thrown at once.

Magazine changes. Continuation. Max froze for a moment to look around. One phone camera, barely over the edge of the platform. Another peeking out from behind a pillar. She walked to the men and remove their masks.

She walked back, hit start. A growing geometry of orbs, hanging in space. Some random, most clustered where people were standing, laying or hiding around the platform. The men caught up to what was happening, turned their aim toward Max, by now twenty feet from them.

In the moment, all flashing and noise and smoke and power and jumping recoil, none of them had realized the masks were gone. Max let the orbs pile up in front of her, random distribution from three angles. Some disconnected part of her found it fascinating to look at. She walked forward, a half shell of spheres moving with her. Time itself shielding her from harm. She tried to keep an inch or two distance between orbs for visual interest. In places, they stacked outward end to end like antennae.

As their rifle magazines emptied, the men switched to sidearms. Until those too were exhausted of ammunition. Fewer than ten seconds had passed since the first loud bang.

Max stopped her forward walk, but set the half shell into orbit around her.

The shooters stopped, looked awkwardly at each other, out to the platform, and seemed unsure of what to do next. It was obvious something significant, something unexpected and utterly unprecedented had happened. They really didn't seem to have a plan for what to do if Max showed up and did anything other than kick their asses or kill them. They had a plan for murdering children. And they had a plan for leaving at the first sign of her. She'd seen both of those.

This, what they were seeing now, clearly wasn't something they were prepared for at all. She wondered how much they knew. Or if they were quite literally hired guns.

People began to lift their heads, look around. More than four hundred spheres scattered in front of them, hanging now in peaceful silence, refracting each other in beautiful arrangements of light. A hundred more moved in a slow orbit around Max. Some people stayed heads-down. But others were eyes-wide, seeing into this strange world for the very first time, still unbelieving. No one said a word. It's as if they were waking up into a dream. Or a shared hallucination. She turned, followed the paths of their eyes. They all began with the orbs. The bullets that would have killed them. Dozens. Hundreds. Held still in the air before each person. Feet from their faces. Max felt a child reach out for one of the orbs. She pulled that one slowly up and out of reach. _Sorry little one. They're pretty, but you'll hurt yourself if you touch them…_

She saw a wide range of expressions painted on faces in the crowd. Awe. Relief. Unfocused gratitude. Disbelief. Fear. A lot of confusion. Some held each other still. And on very few, a dawning recognition that the impossible had just happened.

That things had changed. That they'd witnessed something new in the world.

She couldn't blame them. _It looks like something out of a movie in here… Like real fucking magic._ She had to remind herself that she and Chloe had been living with this craziness for months. But to the rest of the world, this kind of thing didn't exist. Couldn't exist.

As some people stood, a few began to move slowly forward to Max, uncertain if they should. Others away. Some stayed hidden, uncertain what would be next. Max drew the orbs carefully, gently away from their targets. Pulled them to her, to join the orbit of the others around her. Once she had them gathered, she moved them around and away until they were out over the tracks pointed away from the platform. She let the bubbles collapse, sending all of the bullets into the far wall with a final loud synchronized smack. Safely away from people. A few tried to bounce back, but she easily caught and redirected them into the wall again.

Danger over, she turned her attention to the three men who started this. Faces. More phones appeared, arm's length. As many on her as them. Too many now.

She slowed time more significantly, but not enough for shockwaves. Wrangled each of the men into tie wraps. Made sure they were unarmed, and no one in the crowd could use one of the weapons on them in a fit of helpless anger.

Transit cops came in. Patrol cops a minute after that. More sirens over their radios. A third of the potential victims ran out once it was clearly over, and safe to go. Of those who remained, most seemed dazed. Stealing glances at the men on the ground, back to the chipped up wall on the other side of the tracks, and the line of bullets at the base of the wall. That small bit of proof anchoring the reality of what she'd done. But always back to Max. A few mouthed silent thanks. Others she couldn't read. A mother held her child tight, both in tears.

Max froze this outcome to consider. She had time, after all.

It was a different take on the problem, for sure.

On the one hand, everyone was okay. There was video evidence from multiple sources of the men firing into the crowd. And it was a real superhero style moment, now making its way out into the world. The thanks she received, if low key, were gratifying. Recognition, personal recognition, for saving people's lives felt very different than anonymously leaving them with no knowledge of what would have happened had she not intervened. It all felt really good. But…

She knew the implications went beyond how it felt to her right then. And maybe deserved more deliberate thought. The decision would ripple forward like a tsunami, changing everything it touched. The world. Her place in it. She'd just outed herself, and in a way, all talents, to the general public. Video evidence, to be analyzed, dissected, debated, believed or disbelieved. There was gratitude, yes. But she also saw fear. Would they adapt? Would the world redouble efforts to hunt her down? Would people set her further apart than she'd already felt most of her life? Would that help or hurt in the centuries ahead? What did it say about her that she liked the momentary recognition a little? It wasn't why she did it. But was it wrong to like the feeling of it just this once?

Her only examples for what would come next, big picture next, were from superhero fiction, which was pretty split on the subject. No big help there.

 _Shouldn't other talents have some sort of say? It affects everyone. Harder for the bad guys to operate in secrecy when the word is out, but this isn't just my decision. And I'm still not sure myself._

Did she really want the attention to be on her? Would Chloe?

 _Chloe. It's not just my decision. She needs to be a part of this too. And right now, she can't be._

That was enough right there. She decided to find another path. This was something for another day. Or maybe never.

Then she thought of the most obvious thing. The gunmen would still get off without punishment. Any lawyer with a brain would have the video evidence dismissed as an obvious digital effects manipulation. Enough reasonable doubt without a second demonstration. _Yeah… Next path…_

* * *

 **Max** left the crowd and the station as more police and first responders rushed in. Mission accomplished.

After the last run, she decided to rewind a further back, found a payphone and made an anonymous 9-1-1 emergency call, telling the operator where she was, and that she'd seen three big scary men in body armor with bags full of guns heading for the subway platform. She wanted the cops to get there sooner. Having them witness the attack, or at least the tail end of it, should be good enough.

She blended with the crowd, and took a hybrid approach. One that didn't expose her or her powers, but left people unharmed. She went through in super slow motion, so she had time to deal with each bullet individually. As they left the barrels, she'd trap them for a fraction of a second of real time, and rotate their angle manually so each shot would be a miss. Into the walls, ceilings, backpacks and bags, careful to avoid ricochets…it was painstaking work to ensure a safe end for each of the five hundred or so bullets. Beat cops and SWAT showed up before they were out of ammo, and she continued as they began to fight each other. She redirected more than a few rounds away from the police, a few stray police bullets away from people, and back into the legs of the gunmen, careful to miss major arteries.

By the time it was over, the only ones injured were the attackers. But not fatally.

A few additional hours of work. Plus all the time she'd spent at Sam's. She'd been jumping around in time for nearly a full day of her own lifeline. A mix of mental and physical efforts throughout.

She was exhausted, but wanted this done. So she headed for the Federal Building once again.

 _I'll be damned if I'm going to let them push me away today._

* * *

 **Chloe** was asleep, exhausted, when they came for her. It was over before she really knew what was going on. Some sort of air gun injector. They tapped her in the upper arm and it made a thump sound, liquid breaking directly through her skin. Made her feel slow and heavy, but didn't knock her out.

A woman wheeled in a rolling hospital bed and the two men lifted Chloe onto it. They didn't bother to secure her. Her mind was alert, but her limbs were too heavy to lift. It wasn't paralysis exactly. More like an extreme form of injectable laziness maybe? As much as she wanted to move, she just didn't have the energy.

First time she was seeing anything outside her cell though.

She was flat on her back, but she found a way to let her head sort of flop one way, then the next. The hallways were short maze-like affairs with doors around every bend. White ceilings, peach walls. Ceiling lights flipped by above as the procession moved and turned on their path to wherever they were going.

They bumped her through a set of double-doors into a dark space.

The men lifted her onto a flat table, taking care to place a soft foam support under her head and neck. It felt a little bit cold under her, but warmed after a moment.

Above her, on the ceiling, a large flat screen monitor, dark, but the green camera indicator was lit.

There were other structures above her. Ducts maybe? Or lights?

She didn't feel good about this. This didn't feel like them letting her go.

After a few minutes, a different woman walked into the room. She was dressed in a white coat over scrubs, the latter with some sort of brown teddy bear pattern over white. Chloe thought she looked older. Fifties maybe, her long hair pulled back, mixed grey and black.

"Hello Chloe. My name is Doctor Arnault. You may call me Nuria if you'd like."

Her accent, like the rest of her, was difficult to place. French maybe, but with traces of something else. Chloe wasn't a linguist, so didn't spent much more time on it.

"Nuria? I think it's super cool that you guys care enough to give me an exit physical first, but can we just skip to the end part where you let me go?" Chloe was hopeful, but not confident.

Arnault gave her a grim little smile. Almost sympathetic? "I'll be back. You'll have five or ten minutes alone with her first."

She placed a hand on Chloe's shoulder, probably intended to be a comforting gesture, but Chloe was creeped the fuck out by everything about this. Before she could protest or yell or ask questions, Arnault moved away, flipped a switch that turned on a single harsh light over Chloe. Footfalls receded into the dark, and a door closed out of view.

"What do you mean _first_?" she yelled into the darkness. "Hey!"

The screen overhead clicked on.

For an instant, she thought it was a mirror view. That she was looking at herself. But that was wrong.

"Max?!" She was on a table too, but secured. Multiple IV and blood lines into both arms, several different sizes and shapes of patches above them. Some sort of wire hat, with sensors stuck onto her skin all over. Similarly harsh lighting fading sharply into shadows.

Max looked up to the screen. "Chloe?!"

"Dude! What the shit is this? What did those fuckers do to you?!" A part of her was so fucking happy to see Max after who knows how many days here. But part of her also had a sinking feeling that things would probably get worse before they were together again.

"Chloe, I'm so sorry. I thought I was being smart…but I really fucked up bad. Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I think I'm okay. I don't know where I am though. I was on a small plane I think, but I've mostly been here in a cell. That's about all I know. There's no outside view, no clues. Are you here somewhere too? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay Chloe. I'm somewhere in LA still I think? I don't know if you're here, or somewhere else? I'm just…I'm so fucking tired. I…don't think we have much time. I…I love you, you know."

"I know Max. Me too. More than anything. I fucking hate seeing you like this, but I'm really glad to see you at the same time. Sorry, I know that's fucked up."

"Me too. And it's okay. I totally get it. I've been missing you. Bad. Can you get up? Get away?"

"They gave me something. I…can't really move. What did they do to you? What did you do to your hair?"

Max laughed a little that she threw in that last part. "Don't Chloe. Don't make me laugh. I think we might be in some serious shit for reals."

"Sorry. I know. It's just a different look for you."

"Part of a disguise."

"How'd that work out?"

"You shut up…"

"So…any chance you can just jump back to before any of this shit happened? It's not too late to wake us up naked on a beach in Thailand, is it? _Pretty please?"_

"I so wish. Once I find a way out of here, I could do something I think. But I might have to go back pretty far Chloe. They set up some…traps. And I think the only way to avoid this whole thing might be to go all the way back to Hell Week. If I try to jump back to alter things closer to us, a lot of innocent people will absolutely die. Plus, they'd still be here, being assholes. I think we might have to deal with these fuckers if we're going to move past them."

"Fuck. How's that going?"

"Yeah. Quiet you. I'm working on it." Max smiled as she said it, trying to be brave for Chloe. "Have they hurt you at all Chlo? This…God, I can't believe I'm saying this, but…it might be better if we push forward? I swear I'll find a way to find you and get you out. You know that."

"I know Max. It's why I haven't gone completely batshit in here yet. Can you at least use your powers to like escape where you are?"

"Something in these drugs… I can rewind maybe a few seconds at a time, but that's…it. Whatever they have me on, it's fucking strong. I'm accelerating my body like crazy to metabolize the drugs, but I think they're compensating as I do. Increasing the dose as it drops in my blood or something. I can't break past it yet. Sorry…"

After a pause, "This is gonna be a pain in my ass, isn't it?" Chloe said, a slight waver in her voice.

"I can't imagine they brought us here just for the video call."

"Max, I'm scared."

"I know Chloe. Me too. Whatever happens, you know I love you. And I promise, the final timeline…we'll be okay."

"I know Max. But we're here now. And this is way too fucking real. They can't really do anything to you. So that means…"

"I know. I'm so goddamn fucking sorry. I'm here Chloe. No matter what."

 _Fuckfuckfuck._

* * *

 **Max** didn't know what they were going to do to her and Chloe, but this was all obviously part of a well-orchestrated plan. They'd been herding her here. They were waiting inside. As soon as she walked through the lobby door, they hit her with tranquilizer darts. Something new. Faster. More powerful. She went in overconfident. But far too exhausted from the past twenty-four plus hours of time jumping. By the time she tried to slow, shift to a freeze, it was too late. She couldn't. They kept hitting her with more until someone could smack the patches onto her and jam the first IV into her wrist. She was out for a while after that.

When she came out enough to be aware of her surroundings, she was strapped down, monitor overhead. She tried burning the shit out, but she could see that this wasn't just a standard IV drip bag like Chloe had in the alternate timeline. These were mechanical lines. More than one. Pressurized. Monitors and machines and tubes and blood on both sides. And there were other tubes taking blood out of her while this shit was pumped in. She could keep up enough to stay conscious, but only just barely. But she couldn't outrace it. Not yet.

A flash from across the room. _A camera? What the hell? Did they just take a fucking picture of me?_ Flashbacks to another dark room.

Chloe responded. "I know Max, I just…"

Chloe was interrupted by a figure to one side of her. An older woman, doctor maybe? She looked up and addressed Max. "Hello Maxine. My name is Doctor Arnault. I apologize in advance if this is still necessary."

Another figure stepped out of the shadows near Max. Some slick corporate looking asshole. "Hi Max. My name is Roland Stirling. I'm just meeting you for the first time. Do you have the passphrase?"

"What the fuck are you talking about? Wait - you're Roland? You'd better let me go right fucking now. Chloe too. It's the only way you walk away from any of this."

"I'm sorry Max. That's…not how this works. You don't know the passphrase, which means this is the alpha timeline. At the end, once we're done, and we're assured that you understand, we'll give you a passphrase to repeat, and allow you to use the photo I just took to jump back to this moment. You give us the correct passphrase, and we'll know that it's the beta timeline, and our future selves were confident that you'll do as you're told. Chloe will be taken back to her cell, and you'll be taken to one of your own where you'll remain unconscious for the duration. But no harm will come to either of you, and you'll be released before the end of the year. After, you'll never see or hear from us again. We'll never cross paths."

Chloe looked more afraid now than Max had ever seen her. What Roland just said all but confirmed some unpleasantness was about to happen. "Max? Are you sure you don't know their stupid secret password? You could always just shout random fucking words, rewind, yell more random fucking words?"

"I've tried that for a few hours now Chloe." Max's throat hurt a little, actually. "I think it's more complicated than that."

" _Shit._ "

Max looked at Roland, daggers flying. "Why the fuck are you doing this to us? What do you want? You have to know I'll never work for you. Not after this…"

"It's straightforward, Max." Roland said calmly. "It's the reason my group absorbed this operation. Our original assignment was to observe the activities leading up to, and following, the detonation by terrorists of a nuclear device in the city of Las Vegas."

"What? What does that have to do with me? Us?"

"You saw it. Reported what you'd seen. It went up the chain. Our precogs have been aware of this event for nearly three years. It's been very tightly managed since. And my employers' plans do not include a random time traveler adding uncertainty to the outcome."

"Then I really _don't_ understand…I'm trying to stop it too! I have a way…"

"You misunderstand Max. We don't want it stopped. We need to let it detonate. It's an important milestone."

"Wait - _what_? Are you fucking kidding?" Max paused, but he didn't speak. "You guys are straight-up assholes then. I've seen it from ground zero. Do you have any idea how many people are killed? How they die?"

"Of course Max. We know every name. Their sacrifice in service to their people is noted. But it's a necessary event. We have to allow it to happen."

"Are you fucking insane? That's hundreds of thousands of people. Families. Children. Do you want the wars that follow? The deaths? The suffering? Do your precious precogs feel any of that? Is it money? Chaos? What?"

"Of course not Max. None of us want to see those kinds of horrors. We're all decent people. But not all of us have the luxury of staying that way. Sometimes the greater good demands we make choices that seem cruel or terrible on the face of it. History is full of such examples. And many leaders who were judged harshly in their time are lauded as heroes today for the way things turned out. A great many more of us do the same quietly, every day, with no fanfare. For some of us, that's the necessary sacrifice we make in the course of our service to others - that's what we give up. Our souls, our selves, our karma, whatever you believe."

Max could tell he was being sincere. Which made her hate him all the more. "So…more assholes with delusions of artistic grandeur? Check."

"Max - is it really wise to antagonize the Wookie?" Chloe asked, obviously trying to break this spell. She was making an attempt at a joke, but Max could hear that her voice was right on the edge of panic. Fair. She'd never been strapped to a chair while a narcissistic asshole waxed on about their fucking vision. At least not until now. Max had played this game before. She was already over it.

"You're not necessarily wrong Max. These roles, actions, change a person. Losing one's…soul isn't a painless death. It's a long process. That some of us eventually enjoy this all a little too much is a sign of the depth of the sacrifice we've made. Not a badge of honor, but certainly one of conviction."

* * *

 _ **Final warning::** The final half of this scene includes a depiction of character torture. Scroll to _**Hector** _scene marker below to skip_

* * *

Chloe yelled "What are you doing? Get that thing away from me!"

Roland backed away from Max.

Chloe screamed. Not in fear. More like a wounded animal. Max's heart broke at the sound of her.

The doctor on Chloe's side was careful to stay out of the way of the camera as she began her work.

Chloe continued to scream.

Max, screaming, tears burning through her eyes yelling screaming pleading along with her. She raged at Roland. At Arnault. Begged them to stop.

"Max?! Fucking do something? Help me? **_Please?!_** " Chloe screamed in pain and panic.

"What do you want? _What do you fucking want to hear you piece of shit motherfuckers?!_ " shouted Max. She tried moving, bucking, anything…but her body wouldn't cooperate.

Roland sat down in a chair in the corner. "We need you to understand. We need your _compliance_. There's a small chance you might 'burn through the drugs', as you say. There's a chance, however small, that you might find a way to escape our custody in the coming weeks. We've taken away your paths backward through photo jumps. Yes, the thumb drive sewn into your sleeve as well. And the safety deposit boxes. And elsewhere you might think to look. And we both know there's a limit to your rewind abilities. So you're joining us in the present Max. And we need you to understand the consequences of any attempt to interfere with us in the future. Any attempt to stop that bomb. We will repeat this entire process with Chloe if you do anything other than what you're told. But we'll make it last a hundred times longer, breaking, disfiguring, teasing the nerves to greater and greater levels of pain. As horrible as this must be for you to watch, you need to realize this is only a minor demonstration of what we're willing to do for our goals."

Max burned with impotent rage. She tried freezing. She tried rewinding, but that only worked in small jumps. A few seconds. It was bad enough watching Chloe in agony. She couldn't bear to inflict each new pain a second time… She tried to move, tried to pull, push, anything everything, but nothing.

"I get it. _I fucking get it!_ Now leave her alone and give me the fucking password you piece of shit!" She thought they might mess with Chloe. Threaten her. Kill her outright maybe in the extreme case. Maybe do some sort of waterboarding or other psychological bullshit. But this - this was straight up barbaric psychotic fucking torture. Caveman level shit. She and Chloe were barely adults. Lived relatively gentle lives, at least until Blackwell. Neither of them were remotely prepared for the reality of anything like this. Which, she knew, was entirely their point.

Another cry from Chloe, as the doctor moved her attentions, screams, cries, curses, voice breaking, unbearable. " _Maaaaaax?!_ "

Max, blubbering… "I'm so sorry Chloe. I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Goddammit Roland! FUCKING STOP! _Please…stop? Stop? Please? Anyfucking thing. Whateveryouwant just stop? Leave her alone!_ "

"I'm sorry Max. We're on a predefined journey. We have to go through the entire schedule before we can accurately assess where you are. We have hours to go before we can be sure."

Chloe cursed the name of every god she'd ever heard. Sputtered, babbled, trying so hard to move, to do anything. Max couldn't look, but she couldn't look away. If Chloe had the presence of mind to notice the screen, Max needed her to know that she was here with her. Not that that fucking made any fucking difference, _you asshole motherfuckers! "LEAVE HER THE FUCK ALONE!"_

Max tried to accelerate the burn even faster, but the machines beeped and the whine increased in pitch. They were monitoring and keeping up; pumping it in as fast as she could burn it out. _FUCK!_ She couldn't move fast enough without breaking free, and she couldn't break free without moving faster. Trapped.

She tried to capture Roland's head in an orb of frozen time, imagining it twisting in a circle. Freeze a dust mote. _Give me something fucking anything to work with to stop this to stop them to fucking save her from this oh my god Chloe, I'm so fucking sorry…_

Nothing. She was neutralized.

Chloe seemed thankfully incoherent at this point. Pain shut down her consciousness. The doctor paused, passed something under her nose to wake her. Continued. Her screams, more ragged now, intensified.

Max's face was wet with the last of her tears. She was still crying, but nothing more was coming out. Red with anger. Mind shutting down. Body trembling with lizard brain rage.

She looked at Roland, eyes beyond red. Spoke very deliberately. Quietly. Voice barely under control. "I swear to fucking god I'm gonna kill every last one of you."

"And that's why we have a program Max. We estimate it will take another few hours before you reach the acceptance phase. We'll talk again then." With that, Roland got up, walked out, and gently closed the door.

* * *

 **Hector** had to pull his rental car off to the side. It was bad enough trying to drive at night on his own with the dual time streams. But this…other…was something he couldn't handle. He'd been feeling a distant but powerful echo of intense anguish for the past hour, and it was getting more intense.

It wasn't his own. And he knew it wasn't Sophie.

He knew her mind. He hadn't felt her since the abduction at the gas station in France. He'd been in the bathroom when they caught her and Tom outside. Before they drove away, he had a clean shot through the back window. Should have taken it. Was supposed to take it. It was his only job - to protect her network. And she was begging him to kill her. But…he failed. He couldn't. Looking down the sights, finger off the trigger, he knew he could never harm her, regardless of the cost to anyone else.

Before she was shut down, he could hear them, through her, thinking in German. So that's where he headed. He didn't have a plan.

He'd been driving up and down the country trying to find her. To get some sense of the link - that was the only way he knew. Without her link, he couldn't find other talents who might be able to help. He was completely on his own for the first time in years. And so far, he'd felt nothing. Until this 'other' had barged in, full of pain.

He was an empath of a sort. But those abilities were only discovered, and only manifested, through the link with Sophie. So without her, he knew he shouldn't be feeling anything at all right now. Just his usual five second dual reality. But there it was. Terrible, terrible suffering. He hadn't been apart from Sophie until now, so perhaps this talent was something that developed, and he just hadn't noticed? But even still, that sort of thing rarely worked beyond line of sight. Or there was still some residual link with Sophie that allowed this? Didn't matter.

He couldn't tell if he was feeling them differently across his two streams, or if there were two distinct sources. This was a brand new experience, and he didn't yet know how to interpret it. As he calmed his mind, felt, more than thought, he knew he had to find the source. It wasn't Sophie, but it was something familiar.

And it was the first and only real thing he had since she was taken.

* * *

 **Max** was ready to die. By the end, part of her was broken. The other part was just gone. Checked out. Switched off. What they did to Chloe was…so far beyond. Even the doctor was in tears before it was over. The only mercy, in that final hour before she died…her mind seemed more gone than Max's.

Max understood.

She wasn't in a position to fight them. The cost was too high. For Chloe. For her.

She wasn't a hero. She could play all she wanted, but…

They were willing to do things that she couldn't. It's what made them the bad guys.

And she didn't have a defense. Not with her. Not against this.

As much as she hated them, wanted them all to burn in hell, she just wanted her Chloe back in one piece.

For it to be over.

For them to leave Chloe be and never touch her again.

So she couldn't.

Wouldn't.

She was the only thing that mattered.

That hadn't changed.

And they just showed her how terrible, how fragile, all of that really was.

And that there really were worse things than death.

Her only hope was that they'd keep their word. Let them go eventually.

They'd go back into hiding.

Some small pleasure in knowing they'd simply outlive them.

Roland had been satisfied.

He gave her the passphrase.

Reduced the meds enough for her to focus on the picture. Jump back to before they started.

She arrived at the snap of a camera. Just before Roland stepped forward for the first time.

And Chloe. Whole. Entire. The love of her life.

With no memory of any of what she'd just been put through. Hadn't happened for her. _At least that._

As Max saw her face, quiet tears flowed again. Softly this time, all pretense of fight gone out of her.

Chloe responded. "I know Max, I just…"

Chloe was interrupted by a figure to one side of her. "Hello Maxine. My name is Doctor Arnault. I apologize in advance if this is still necessary."

Max, sounding very small. "It's not."

Another figure stepped out of the shadows. "Hi Max. My name is Roland Stirling. I'm just meeting you for the first time. Do you have the passphrase?"

Max said, quietly, slowly "A bright and shiny future awaits us all in Tomorrowland." Never before in history had so little of the hope in that message been conveyed by the one speaking the words.

"Max, what the fuck dude?"

With that, Roland nodded, his voice not unkind. "I'll give you two a few minutes Max. Then we'll need to put you under for a few weeks. You understand."

"I do."

Roland left the room. As did Dr. Arnault on Chloe's side.

"Max? What the hell?"

A little of the light came back to Max's eyes. "It's okay love. We'll be okay. Just a couple of weeks."

"Okay, I'm confused. Max?"

Max didn't have the heart to tell her. Couldn't bear to tell her. It was still too new. Too wrong. And she was still too numb. She…couldn't think about it, much less form the words. What could she say anyway?

It was enough that she was back.

This Chloe was still innocent of all of that. Better she stayed that way.

"I just…I can't talk about it Chloe. But…I love you so much."

"Me too Max. But you're really scaring me - what did they do to you? To me? What the fuck did they make you do Max? We talked about this shit, remember?" Chloe was afraid, but also becoming angry.

"Nothing love. It's…" She did remember. But what they'd talked about was a gun to Chloe's head as the worst case. That was fast. Clean. She could undo that. Already had. But they hadn't talked about this. Hours and hours of visceral unrelenting physical torture? Max wasn't strong enough. Not when it came to her. And now she knew it. That was the lesson they wanted her to learn. That's what they needed to break inside her. And they had. "…I could really use a hug right now is all." Tears flowed freely down her cheeks now.

A few techs came into the room, moved a few settings. Max could feel herself drifting. She just wanted to say goodbye. One last look at her before she closed her eyes. Her face. Her smile. Anything to replace the nightmares with dreams again.

As she faded off into darkness, a brilliant point of blue light shone in the far distance.


	22. 192 BPM

**Hector** pulled over to the side of the highway. Driving at dusk was difficult enough for him with his dual time streams. But this…break in his streams…was something brand new, and he didn't know how to handle it. Something very wrong. Something…out of order.

He knew that for most precogs, it was a partial guess of 'maybe' futures at best, often days or months or years away. Half symbolic, washes of forgotten memories. That's how it had been explained to him anyway. But his particular gift was different. It was close. Five seconds close. He and Sophie had explored the implications for hours, days at a time over the years. She'd even brought in others through the link to settle this argument or that about what things meant.

They assumed that the full sensory saturation was because it was so near. A super-tight feedback loop between his future self and his past self, so no information was lost. Self-tuning, self-regulating. What he saw wasn't a vague notion of maybe. It was a one hundred percent absolute every time. Complete, accurate, full sensory duplication. Without deviation.

And that was only possible, they decided, if he was altering the future as he was moving toward it, choosing it in a way, because of what he saw. Each alteration changed what his past self saw. Which might change what he did, which altered for the next past self. Ad infinitum, until he finally agreed to follow the path his future self set exactly, and each self would experience it as though it was for the first, or second, time. Mostly invisible to him.

The only future his past self was aware of was the cumulative final choice arrived at through endless iterations. He was a self-fulfilling prophesy in a way, writing as he went. But the gap, the limitation, was the time. It was only five seconds into the future. That was as far as he could go.

And for his entire life, since puberty anyway, it had mostly been a hindrance. A confusing distraction of duplicative moments, presented simultaneously. There were exceptions. Situations when a tight five second feedback loop was useful. But mostly not.

Regardless, in the end, he was only ever aware of the one path. The path he finally took. Built knowing everything he could possibly know or experience in the span up to five seconds from now. But those two streams, as he experienced them, always agreed. _Always matched_. Until today.

It was short. But jarring and complete in a way. For exactly five seconds, just before he pulled over, he experienced a perfect copy of his complete set of thoughts, feelings, sensations and knowledge, from what he knew to be hours in the future. Five seconds of consciousness, delivered whole. And within that, awareness of great feelings of pain, helplessness, hopelessness, anger… One, possibly two minds.

He also knew the conclusions he'd reached about what he was sensing, without having to go through the thought process again. That snapshot of memory was still there, as a memory of thought within those seconds.

After the one stream finished with the brief future deviation, they'd synced back up. And now, on the side of the road, he could sense that feeling of 'other' again now, in real time. Now that he knew what to look for. Farther this time. Weaker. He would have missed it. A lingering version of that same anguish, matured into an infinite sadness. This time, clearly one. Which meant that before, in the remembered future, it was definitely two. He could tell the difference after seeing how the shapes had changed.

Given everything in front of him, he could only draw one conclusion.

He _must_ be sensing Max.

And based on what he felt within her, something terrible had happened.

Her gift was the only thing in the universe he knew of that could directly manipulate time. Directly manipulate his experiences. No other way to cause a break in his personal five second gap. Only her gift made sense of that dissonance. He didn't know why he'd never noticed it when she'd changed things before. Maybe because he'd never had a clear marker. Never been linked to an extremely disrupted emotional state like this, on his own, with such a clear change at each end. Maybe the iterations weeded it out before? Maybe his personal experience didn't change when she'd reset things in the past, aside from being alive or dead once? Or perhaps any small sense of them was lost in the background noise between himself, Sophie and the link. Or maybe…he just didn't know.

He was on his own now. And whatever direction his gift had taken, he'd only become aware of it in Sophie's absence. And now, it was sensing Max's pain. How didn't matter.

He remembered, felt the shape of it. He guessed something happened with Chloe? Something very bad for those kinds of emotions, that intensely felt. That was the second pain, separated in space maybe, but waves synchronized with the first, he remembered. And now it was only Max. Wouldn't be Chloe. She'd have no memory after the going back. Max for sure then; she was the source. Changed. An aftermath? She must have jumped, and now things are happening differently? But not different enough to erase the pain.

In the same period of time after Sophie was abducted.

 _This can't be coincidence_.

 _I don't know where Sophie is, but if I can help Max. Max can maybe help me find Sophie. Could undo any damage._

And when he closed his eyes, took on the full weight of those feelings, he thought he might follow the complex trail of her pain and sadness. Like a beam of darkness in light. He could find her. Had to. It was the only lead; the only direction he had left.

 _Vaguely. West._ That meant America again. The US.

He turned around at the next off-ramp, rejoined the highway in the other direction, heading northeast through Kaiserslautern and on toward the airport in Frankfurt.

* * *

 **Nuria** picked up the video call in her office. It was Mr. Stirling in Los Angeles. She'd been giving him a chance to get back to his office before calling him, but this also worked.

"Hello Doctor. Thank you again."

"Mr. Stirling. I'm not sure what for. Not really?" She knew, but the implications made her uncomfortable. About herself. The intersection of choice, free will and macroscopic effects of the quantum world of the brain…

"I know this was a difficult request on short notice, and I'm sure it made for a pretty weird day." He smiled at her through the camera.

"So was that it then? Did…anything actually happen?"

"That's it. And technically, no. Nothing happened. Nothing real. At least not for us."

"If I might be candid, I spent the better part of my day preparing myself for the horrible reality of this. It's confusing and troubling to me, even when explained."

"I understand. It's like I said yesterday - in the end, she'd make it like it never happened. Or nothing would happen, but her memories would change as though it had. If it helps to look at it that way?"

"But it did happen though? In some other time or place there's a version of me that did these terrible things to that young girl? I was certain I wouldn't be able to. But she had the passphrase. How else would she know?"

"Maybe someone else took over, if you really failed? We can't know. But it doesn't help to overthink it. She wasn't real in that future, and neither were you. Advisors, your fellow scientists, explain it all away as 'virtual people'. They're mathematical constructs, but it's not like they turn into real people at any point. Not that we can know or interact with in any way. They're probabilities. Our intentions for the future carry much more weight for her than they do in our day-to-day lives. The fact of our intentions causes the wave to collapse in a way that is favorable to our ends." He smiled, as though that explained everything. Or anything.

She couldn't disconnect from the fact that some part of her had to have finally been willing. Even if she knew it would be erased. "It's not that simple."

"It can be if you let it. Doctor, you were willing to do a terrible thing to help get a critically dangerous rogue talent under control. That willingness was enough. We have her now. Don't beat yourself up. This was an extreme circumstance, and in the end, as you see, you didn't have to do anything at all. She's strange. That's how this battle had to be fought."

She nodded, but she was still bothered by the tradeoff. She knew that her work here went far beyond normal ethical lines, but she didn't become a doctor to intentionally inflict pain. Which she hadn't, apparently? But she knew that was twisting words. Some version of her had. Even if it wasn't real, it was a copy of her in some way. Which meant she had. There was no separating the two. And it bothered her greatly.

"Chloe is on her way back to holding now." she said, changing the subject.

"She has to stay. I'll need her as a live witness in a few weeks. To that end, I'll need a viewing room for her, set up with cameras, two monitors. Data links. Something with a two-way mirror so the telepaths reading her might give us an early warning if things break. But there's no reason for special treatment or holding with her now - beyond the basics anyway."

"Thank you. That was my next question. I'll pass the request along to IT and facilities if you'd like?"

"Great. Thanks again for your cooperation, Dr. Arnault. I know this has been difficult on a few levels. If that's all for now? I have another meeting I need to run to."

"No, that's all. Ciao."

"Be in touch."

She disconnected, began drafting emails about the viewing room, and another to remove the special protocols from Chloe's program. There was still a part of her that felt guilty. Even if neither of them remembered, she'd hurt that girl, almost certainly.

 _Might check in on her myself. Just to make sure she's okay._

* * *

 **Michaels** ' team had traced Sophie and Hector's path to a gas station in France, where she and another man were forced into the back of a white BMW. Once they had video confirmation of the car crossing over into Germany, Michaels and one of the tac teams hopped a flight from Dobbins Air Base in Georgia to Ramstein in Germany. They'd been working with the Germans to try to track down her location for more than a week.

After the meeting with Max, Michaels quickly got the band back together, set up primary operations in a large warehouse in Atlanta, Georgia. Wasn't much. Discreet. Had space and power. From there, they worked with authorities across several countries under the guise of an active terrorism investigation, with the kidnapping of an unnamed diplomat's daughter detailed as part of an ongoing plot.

They picked up the video trail of Sophie and Hector when it was only a few days old, just west of London. They followed them through the Chunnel to France, continuing east. From there, they zoomed in on the abduction area itself. Hector was away during the actual grab, but chased them with a gun, before getting back in the car and attempting to follow. He lost the trail, but headed north, driving aimlessly. At least initially.

Michaels split them into two teams early. One focused on Sophie, the other on Hector. Michaels went with the Sophie team, but as lead, he received regular updates from the others.

Hector's team followed his trail back to the US. First to New York, then short flights to a number of cities by plane, like he'd been searching for something. Until he finally stopped in LA. He'd been there for half a week when Michaels made the call for the second tac team to pick him up. He was hoping for any information that might help with Sophie, but he didn't get much. Only that the other man in the video was a precog they'd transported from England. He knew Hector only shared that with him because he was on Max's payroll now. _Half the talents we'd find in a generation just going down the road in that car, like nothing special. I thought they were rarer than this…_ They were working on his identity, just in case.

Hector had been surprised and gratified to learn that Max had launched this entire effort to find them. He pointed out the irony of it to Michaels, given his own mission.

Michaels looked at his watch, picked up the sat-phone. Time to check in with Samuel.

"Hey John."

"Hey Sam. So I'm pretty sure you're going to say you still haven't heard from her?"

"Clock's ticking too. My 'B' plan isn't nearly as good."

"We picked up Navarro in LA. He says Max is in trouble. Something happened. Timing lines up with the day she met with us. Which explains the extended silence."

"Shit. She ran off to deal with the Chloe situation after she left." Sam sounded irritated.

"So that probably didn't go well?" The quarter second delay of the sat-phone made for stilted conversations, but they adapted with additional pauses so they didn't talk over each other.

"I knew we should have sat on her until the 17th."

"Not sure how that would have worked?" Michaels repeated himself after a garble.

"I know. But this is a bad spot. That's two days away, and if Roland's group has her…"

"We're assuming; he does right?"

"Strongest possibility. Which means they're using Chloe to keep her locked down." Sam stated the obvious. No other way they could think of.

"Hector described something to me…made it sound an awful lot like they might have tortured Chloe, or Max, or both, then he thinks Max jumped back. But without killing everyone apparently. And we haven't heard from her since."

"That's pretty damning." Said Sam. "Means she hasn't escaped yet."

"Right. Bringing us back to Chloe. So that's the question then, right? What do we do here?" Michaels had ideas, but they were all dangerous.

"Sounds like plan 'B' on the bomb."

"That's it?"

"John, we've got a quarter of a million people at risk here. And two days. If Max can't help, and it sounds like she can't, there's probably not a quiet way to do this. And I'm going to need to make some calls. I've been putting them off longer than I should, hoping she'd check in."

"I'm in Germany, getting closer to Sophie, but we're not there yet. I've got Hector and a tac team in LA. He said he was there to bust Max out, by the way. We picked him up before he could nail down a final location on her. And we've got Chloe somewhere out there. Roland is right in the middle of all of this."

"Would have been us, John."

"Not this way, Sam."

"Okay, so what? You want to switch sides? Go head to head with Roland? Go to war with our mutual network of employers? I mean, that's a funeral. Or more."

"Technically, _Max_ is my employer right now. But no - not directly. Just…maybe if you can sniff around? See if you can at least get a bead on where Chloe is? If she's okay? If we can find Max, maybe we give Hector a little support? Behind the scenes? Let him do whatever he can to help?"

"Roland _is_ an asshole. But I can't be seen or read to be in the middle of this John. Julie, the kids… It's one thing to use Max if she becomes available. Best tool for the job. But I can't go breaking her out of someone else's custody. It's not our show."

"I know. I do. But what about Chloe? She's not a talent. She's a civilian caught in the middle of all of this."

"If they're using her to keep Max in check, and we fuck around with that… It's way over the line. We know better, and they know we know better. It's no different from helping Max directly."

Michaels was losing patience. He hadn't intended this, but he'd held his tongue til now, and it lead them here. "It's just not right Sam. This whole goddamn thing stinks. Why, how, did Roland come in so quickly? What was it, two days after our talk? After all her help with the Russians? There wasn't enough time for them to process the observations or conclusions. Much less the recommendation. There's something else going on. I don't know what, but this whole fucking thing just feels hinky."

"Hinky? John, you're frustrated. I know. I really do. I know you liked those kids, and it's normal. But you're seeing conspiracies painted over business as usual and calling it wrong. You and me, we're just arms and legs to them. Who knows why they do what they do? They make a call; it doesn't matter why. It's their dime. All these org charts narrow hard up in the clouds. But if you want to get the call next time they need an arm or a leg, you keep acting like an arm or a leg. They have their own heads. The minute you start thinking like you're a head, they cut you off."

"That's…almost poetic." Michaels was annoyed. Even if it was the wrong call, he was coming around to the idea that it didn't matter that Sam was absolutely right.

"I've seen it. Look, I don't know John. Maybe let Hector do his thing. If Max turns up, I'll happily put her to work. But come the morning of the 17th, if she's not on the scene, I have to pull everyone out of the wings and let them mobilize for plan 'B'. I know - if we pull out the mobile gamma detectors, feet on the street, they might see, might hold off, place it somewhere else, and then we're fucked. But there's no option to do nothing."

"At least think about putting feelers out on Chloe, Sam? If Hector can get Max out on his own, she'll want to get to Chloe before doing anything else. You know them. Clock ticking. Knowing where she is gives us an option to make that a short detour instead of a long one. Might get her back on the board for Vegas in time. We both know that's a better plan. And it's the right thing to do. And don't say it…"

 _And if what Hector said was true, and they really did hurt Chloe, I'm going to be very glad I'm on her payroll instead of theirs right now… You should be helping her too, old buddy._

"I'll think about it John. Inquiries alone aren't without risk…"

* * *

 **Chloe** hadn't seen Max in what had to be a couple of weeks. She'd expected as much, with the talk of her being kept under for a while. She was pissed as fuck, but couldn't do anything about it. She didn't know what happened exactly, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to put it together. They'd obviously gone to work on Chloe, and that fucked up Max pretty hardcore.

Chloe had already been through all of the anger, self-hate, others-hate… the blame, emotional devastation and self-pity that they'd used her as a tool, a weapon against Max. Successfully by all appearances. She hated all of these fuckers for what Max must have endured to come out the other side so visibly changed. Diminished. Shell-shocked. _Motherfuckers._

On some level, Chloe was also upset that they'd done these things to her. If Max was that fucked up after, they must have inflicted some seriously dark shit. But she never experienced any of it, so it was a little abstract. She focused on what she knew. What she could see. What really mattered. Which was her. Them.

Maybe it had been a mistake to pressure Max to stick to some arbitrary code of honor. Selfish to try to keep her the same old Max she'd always known. Dorky. Cute. Innocent. Light. Happy. Wouldn't hurt anyone. In some ways, naive. But maybe Chloe had been the one being naive? Had she held her back? Was she the one responsible? Max had always been the stronger one in a lot of quiet ways.

These assholes clearly weren't burdened with conscience. And Max hadn't been prepared for whatever she was forced to witness. Would it have gone differently, if Chloe had accepted that Max _was_ different now? Maybe _had to be_ different, for all of this? Maybe a little dark would have helped her? More second guesses. But Chloe was pretty sure that if Max had simply killed all of them when she had the chance, the two of them would be together right now.

Chloe hated those last moments, before they were separated again. She was so subdued. Sad. Like her spirit had been completely trampled. And Chloe knew it had been for her. Looping her right back to self-loathing. They had to be keeping her as continued leverage. And they probably wouldn't let her go. Never as long as Max was alive anyway. Max might never work for them, but they were determined that she wouldn't work against them. And Chloe being here was their only real insurance. And after that day, probably the only thing keeping any of them alive.

It wasn't that Chloe had moved past any of these feelings in the past two weeks. The hate. Heart crushed to the floor for Max. But there just hadn't been anything new. It all just kind of _was_. Hanging over her. Through the sameness of the daily routine in a ten by ten by ten cell. She had a nervous energy, but few outlets. She was still looking for opportunity. For a way out. But in the mean-time, she'd kept up her workout routine, even as they'd eased back on the psychological games. Starting the day after she and Max were allowed to speak, the lights came on with breakfast, and stayed on til a few hours after they brought her dinner. Normal meal times as far as she could tell. The food was the same, but they even threw things on the monitor from time to time now. Streams of television shows or movies. Some in English.

The doctor, Arnault, _Nuria_ , continued to check in with her at least daily over the video link. Mostly to ask how she was doing, if she needed anything… Other times, more recently, just to chat. She seemed sad. But she was the only person who talked to Chloe. She knew Nuria was involved in some way with whatever they'd done to take Max out of the picture, but maybe not directly? She didn't _seem_ like a completely terrible person, despite her choice of employers.

They hadn't talked about it. Chloe tried, but Nuria insisted that nothing had actually happened. At least not as far as she knew. She came across as a warm, genuinely concerned person. Which left Chloe conflicted about her and her role in this. In some ways, she wished it could all be more black and white. Hate would be easier.

Chloe knew that Nuria liked to paint. Knew that she went into medicine after watching her parents fight a losing battle with cancer through her teen years. They'd spoken at length of their fathers.

Nuria shared that she'd started her early career with pain management research, before going back to school to switch over into genetics. At first to try to understand the pathologies of various types of cancers. But after twenty years without much progress, she'd been recruited here, to work with a team attempting to understand the genetic basis for the various talents. How to identify them more accurately. How to suppress powers for those who wished it. Those who's gifts might be more extreme, or interfere with their quality of life.

Chloe thought of Hector. So chill. So quiet. But clearly living with a talent that crippled him in many ways. She could see it. She could also see the dangers of applying something like that to people who didn't wish it. As a weapon. Since there weren't a lot of talents in the world, she assumed that's what this was really about. But she played along.

Chloe mentioned she was interested in a wide variety of sciences. She didn't share the reason for it. That would give up too much information about Max, and she wasn't convinced that these conversations weren't part of a larger plan of theirs. But Nuria didn't press, and offered to try to get a few science programs into her video rotation. It was a nice gesture.

Chloe read between the lines of various conversations over the past couple of weeks, later pieced together that this facility was a sort of holding center for possibly _artificial talents?_ Arnault confirmed her guesses late one night; she'd been drinking. Low risk prisoners, or volunteers who maybe were having bad reactions, got bad talents, or other troubles that required isolation were kept here. She confided that the success rate so far for creating useful talents had been very low. And of those few who responded to the gene treatments, the results had been unpredictable at best. But she felt confident their team was getting close.

The implications of that were amazing and terrifying. If they could create talents, and it got out, it would be chaos. At least for a while until a balance was struck. Until laws were updated to reflect new realities, good guys and bad guys evenly matched, getting past the inevitable mutant vs. pure human conflicts… Total _X-Men_ or _Inhumans_ level shit. But there was no hint of any of that in what Max could remember of the future. _So does that mean it stays secret, or that it never leaves here?_

The other path, creating and weaponizing talents, was a scarier version. Secretly concentrating access to either the highest bidder, or any one nation. Once things went out of balance there, shit got really scary. Even she could see that if any one country built an army of talents, fear would inevitably lead someone to a pre-emptive attack with real armies and weapons. Or was she remembering a different movie? Or maybe it fit with part of something Max had said? Didn't matter. It totally made sense. And seemed like a bad idea all around.

Chloe clearly had time to think.

And she realized the other implication of the slip was confirmation that Chloe was never leaving this facility. For real. Even if the information had been given accidentally, they were surely monitoring. She wasn't walking out. Not alive.

Chloe wasn't under any illusions. She knew that she was the only leverage they had over Max. But she also knew Max was probably out of it right now. So she played her hand. Trying to understand. Forge connections. Still looking for a way out on her own. Some way to change things. Absolute worst case, she could take her own life.

That would end it for sure. Not that she had any desire at all to die. The opposite in fact. For the first time in a long time, present circumstances excepted, she felt she had everything in the world to live for. Her offer on the cliff had led to a whole lot of soul searching afterwards. She'd been ready to, mostly, but she knew she didn't want it. She still didn't. But as was the case then on a much smaller scale, Max was boxed in, and there were so many more people who deserved to live.

 _As much as Max talks about my importance to the future, she could easily prevent any of that shit from happening, if she was free to act without_ … _me hanging over her head. This isn't feeling sorry for yourself. I don't fucking want to die. This is realism. Max chose me once. But she shouldn't have to keep doing it over and over. Not when the costs - and the effect on her - keep getting greater and greater. Millions of lives? More in the future? What, so some awesome future version of me can fix the shit that should never have been fucked up in the first place? If it wasn't for me, these assholes would have been dealt with by now._

 _We should have agreed to some sort of do-not-resuscitate thing. If they kill me once, let me stay dead, try to fix shit your way, and if you can bring me back in the process, great._

 _But this whole 'World shaking Time Goddess hanging out on the sidelines while the bad guys toy with the fates of mortals' thing is pure fucking bullshit._

It was idle thinking. But it kept coming back. Not the preferred option. At all. But an option. She didn't see it as though she'd be taking her own life. It was making a choice to allow so many more to be saved. If it came down to a choice between her life and the lives of millions, Chloe would be the one to make the choice next time. Max had carried enough on her back. Chloe wouldn't ask more of her.

But only as a _last_ last resort.

 _Life is pretty badass when you aren't a prisoner of evil weirdos._

* * *

 **Max** was lost in an endless dream…

Living entire lifetimes within each moment.

Each memory a small forever all its own.

.

She was a child again. No more than four.

They were both giggle monsters.

Making snow angels together in her driveway. Breath white. Noses pink.

.

It was her first day of school.

She was proud to be the only kindergartner with a big first grader for a best friend.

They played through the chain link fence that separated them all recess long.

.

She was seven.

They buried some of their lost baby teeth in a coffee can on the beach, a short walk from the Two Whales.

They thought they'd be worth more if they saved them. Like pirate treasure.

.

Twelve.

Middle ground where nothing was right.

Chloe was a year ahead. So much prettier already.

.

Fifteen.

Alone.

Too afraid to reach out. Too much time passed. What could she even say?

.

Eighteen.

Chloe's room. Lying on her bed, watching light pour sideways through the motes.

Feeling her, almost close.

.

Eighteen.

Breath on her neck.

Playing the little spoon as the sun set.

.

Eighteen.

Breath on her throat.

Feeling her inside.

.

Eighteen.

Wind in their hair.

Laughter in open sunshine.

.

Eighteen.

Moment of calm, peace.

Just holding each other in the quiet dark.

.

Eighteen.

Hand on her hip.

Chloe's over her shoulder. Walking through sand.

.

Eighteen.

Shared tears.

Shared pains.

.

Darkness.

.

Eighteen.

Alone.

Alone.

.

Other memories danced, begging to be the next universe. The next forever.

Something else.

Something new.

Timeless.

A white expanse.

A return.

"Hello Max." A familiar voice. Not made of mouth sounds.

"Hi…"

"It's going to be okay Max. You were never alone."

"I'm sorry. But thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Where?"

"Nowhere."

"I…"

"Remember me. Yes. We've met in this direction too."

"You helped me…"

"Before. No. I only said the words. It was you."

"Why…"

"Am I here? To say different words."

"Why? I'm happy here.

Forever with her."

"Because you need to hear them. Because she's still out there. Because she is alone."

"What…"

"Have faith Max. Trust in both of you."

"But…"

"You'll have other choices to make soon."

"I want to stay here."

"You can't. It's almost time Max."

"I…I understand."

"Almost."

"Will I see you again?"

"You just did."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome Max. It's now again."

…A white expanse.

…A chrysalis

…Almost time.

.

Eighteen.

Floating weightless. Earth below.

Two hundred and twenty mile high club.

.

Eighteen.

 _Kiss me._

 _I double-dare you. Kiss me now…_

.

Gunshots…

Alarms…

* * *

 **Hector** crouched in the darkness, his back against the wall between two shrubs. Baggy black pants, shirt. Hair obscured his face as he leaned forward to insert the earbuds. His phone was filled with mixes he'd put together. Not all music worked for this, but he'd kept his to things that would. Everything in his library was time-shifted in-key to 96 bpm, or 192 bmp. Those were the only speeds of music he could listen to where the beats lined up perfectly in four bar loops with his five-second delay. This was going to be loud inside, even with the suppressors. The noise cancellation plus the music would help him focus.

He'd been able to track Max to LA, which wasn't bad for his first time with this latent ability. But it was fuzzy once he got here. Some of the guys from Vegas picked him up outside his motel. He was expecting that to go a completely different way. Ridiculous that they were working for Max. Complicated that their other bosses were holding her. But at least they offered some gear, and a location - nondescript industrial park in Torrance. They said she might be in a basement.

He found a good mix. Half trip-hop, half drum&bass. Enough syncopation to play with the measures between passes. Two speeds. Everything synced up across both streams. Should work well. In day to day life, his gift was a pain in the ass. This, what he was about to do, was one of the only activities where it gave him a significant advantage. His aptitude was why he'd been matched against Sophie. He'd failed her in more ways than one. Maybe this would make up for it a little.

He hit play. Beats started thumping. First stream, repeating in second as the mix changed.

He hit the button on the transmitter, blowing the C-4 on the front door, around the corner.

Bass.

He ran around to the door, through the empty frame, and into the dark smoky hall. White emergency exit lights flashed as an alarm blared. The chaos would work to his advantage more than theirs.

A layer of shimmering guitars.

He went through the door to the right, into the hallway. Left door opens, security guy. The real kind. Body armor, undone. Helmet. Hector dropped low. The left door opened. Security guy. Fired sideways through his arm, missing bone, bypassing body armor. Heart. Dropped.

Synth rhythm panning hard left and right with each half-measure.

Hector looked past the door, nothing. Kept going down the hallway. Around the corner, three men, running together, M-4s. Hector ran to the end of the T-intersection, just before they reached it, kicked off the far wall to dive back into the group from the wall side. Scattered. From the center, quickly punched up, fired, punched up, fired with left and right. Two fell with headshots, third tangled, tripping, aim, fire, downed. Grabbed a keycard. He continued down the hall in a run.

Breaks, phasing.

This should be the corridor along the back of the building. Stairs in the far corner down. A walk gave him 20 feet of look-ahead between streams. A run was closer to 35. Two more men turned a corner. He paused. They moved through a doorway out of sight. He ran. Found the stairs. Used the card, door released.

Slow build back up. Layering.

Down the stairs, leaping half-flights. Booming metal steps. Red lights on. Card. Door opened. Left. Still the back wall, other way. Running. Four guards at the next intersection, spread out down the center hall. Running. Round the corner. Aimed. Fired. Dropped. Pushed off the wall, rotated, two guns out, ducked, bullets hit above, fired left and right, turned, fired right. Three dropped.

Vocal interlude, rising.

Four doors. Different from the rest. Key card. Opened one, nothing, opened two, someone else, opened three empty, four, red light. Four, red light. Picked up another card, red light. Door, steel, but still an office building door.

Song change. Transition.

Tested the walls. Drywall over aluminum stud frame. _Fucking morons._ Kicked through the wall beside the door. Reached in, flipped the handle. Door opened, alarm sounded, joined the fire alarm. Inside, Max. Bed, machines, tubes. Holstered left right.

Slow intro.

He looked. Removed patches from arms, legs, thigh. Multiple blood lines, complicated. Master switch? Nothing obvious. Pulled the IVs first left then right hand, machines beeped, pulled sensors, more beeps, followed remaining tubes ankles, inner thigh, carefully removed.

Crashing epic beats.

He removed the last of the tubes, nothing holding Max in, down. Lifted her up, over his shoulder, right hand free, holster, changed mag. Moved out through the door. Left ducked fired turned Max away. Stirring. Down the hall to the stairs. Card, green light, unlocked. Paused.

Instrumental build, hats.

Into the stairwell, he set Max down gently, ran the first half flight, other holster, left right both dropped. Jumped back down, into holster, picked her back up, over his shoulder. Stopped. Put her back down, lifted her body forward, sitting. Turned, fired, dropped.

Hit pause.

The alarms were blaring, fighting with each other for attention, red and white lights flashing. Max was showing signs of something besides rag-doll. He checked her breathing, her eyes. Partial dilation.

* * *

 **Max** felt the gunshots as much as she heard them over the chaos. She'd been so warm a minute ago. Cocooned. This was all wrong. She cracked opened her eyes to find herself sideways in a stairwell. Blurred. Lights were strobing, and the sound was unbearable. Two flashes. Two more gunshots. She still couldn't move. Someone picked her up, she struggled to move. She was back on the ground, felt herself lifted up. Another gunshot. She felt a hand on her face, opening her eyes.

hector?!

 _where am i? what's happening?_ She remembered small pieces. " _oh no… please! take me back?_ " She started to panic, her heart skipping every other beat. _chloe._ _what would they do if they thought i was trying to escape…_ Her thoughts were slurred in her own mind.

"Max, I need you to focus. I can't understand you…what you're saying. I can feel you're scared. It's okay - you've been drugged. I'm taking you out of here."

Still couldn't break through. _no! please hector?_ Couldn't freeze, couldn't accelerate. Couldn't talk. She'd been under deep. Still was. The drugs were only working out of her system at the normal speed. It would take too long to get control of her powers at this rate. She kept trying, flailing, as he picked her up and carried her up the stairs.

* * *

 **Hector** put her in the passenger seat, buckled her in and drove toward the freeway. It would have been better if she'd been able to wake up. She could have rewound the whole thing, meeting him at the car with no one knowing she was gone yet. But he'd planned for a fast escape, so was off the freeway again within minutes and into the parking garage where he'd stashed the second of three nondescript used cars. More tips from the Vegas guys to avoid the tracking, along with a significant wad of MaxCash.

He got her into the back of the beater VW, on her side, out of view of traffic cams for the drive north. One more change before finding a random motel off the 101.

* * *

 **Max** woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs and toast. Despite something like hunger, she didn't feel like eating. Or anything really. She was dehydrated, and headachy. She opened her eyes and looked around without moving her head. She was in a small bed in a dim room. Blurry. Everything in shades of brown. Another bed over there. Hadn't been slept in.

She finally rolled, sending spears of pain through her neck. Saw a silhouette against a closed curtain. Dark, sitting at a table, chair. Hair hanging down in front.

"Hector?"

"Hey. Max. Go slow." He moved over and sat on the bed next to her. Handed her a small bottle of un-chilled water.

She sat up slow, rubbing her eyes, running her hands over her head and through her hair, pressing in with her palms to try to squish out the pain. Hair was a tangled, matted mess. She twisted the cap off the water and drank it all. Almost threw up.

"I did say slow." He smiled kindly.

"Fuck." She remembered parts of last night. 'How long have I been gone?"

"Couple of weeks, John said. Oh, right."

"No, I meant from where I was?" _Maybe there's still time to go back?_

"That was late last night. It's 10am now."

Her head felt like it was spitting in half. Fit with her mood. "Chloe." she said, suddenly afraid. "They might…"

"No. No Max. They won't. They wouldn't now. It's the only thing they have left. Maybe if you went at them directly, but not now. It'll be okay. We'll get her back."

"Hector, you don't know…what they did to her…" Max couldn't continue…even a chance that they might put Chloe through anything like that ever again…

"I felt you both Max. From the other side of the earth. Across two timelines. I don't know. But I know how it made both of you feel….hey…hey…"

He leaned in, pulled her into a hug as she broke again. Present, but not too tight, he held on and she did too.

They stayed there for a time.

He didn't say a word, just held her, let her cry on his shoulder,

his hand holding the back of her head gently.

The simplest, most human gesture.

But it meant the world to her.


	23. December 16th

**Max** didn't feel better. There was too much wrong. But she felt comforted, which was different. Still mattered. Still helpful. Restorative, in its own way. She pulled back from Hector, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Gave him a small but genuine smile of thanks as her eyes dropped.

He returned a slight nod, sat back. "Oh, here, hang on…" He got up and went to the efficiency kitchen, pulled something out of a bag and placed it in the small microwave. By the time he finished pouring her a cup of black coffee from the tiny pot, the oven dinged. He set the coffee on the night-table next to her bed, and handed her the warmed bacon and egg sandwich. "You might not feel like it, but you need to eat something." He sat back down at the table.

She unwrapped the sandwich. It's what she'd smelled earlier. He'd been eating his when she woke up. He was right on two counts. She didn't feel like eating. And she needed to anyway. It felt like she'd lost a little weight. She picked at it with her fingers, putting small amounts in her mouth, absently chewing the bits in silence. She couldn't really taste. Over the next few minutes, her mind reeled back and forth over shades of darkness. What they'd done to Chloe. What she was worried they might yet do. Picturing herself slowly pulling Roland's spine out through his chest, then strangling that fucking doctor with it…

 _Chloe…_ her face at the end, before they put Max all the way under. She'd been so worried. And angry. _Those assholes tore her apart, and all she cared about was what it did to me…_

Max had eaten about a third of her sandwich. She felt herself shaking a little.

A chill washed up her spine, caught, stayed in her throat.

Angry tears burned behind her eyes…

 _I don't know exactly how._

 _And I don't know when…_

 _…but I swear - on my life…and by all of my powers - you're going to die a painful, horrible death, Roland Stirling. Both of you are. I don't give a fuck what it does to my karma - this is yours. She's_ ** _my_** _angel, and what you assholes did to her is unforgivable…_

Hector cleared his throat. Insistent, but without alarm. She looked over at his silhouette. His eyes were focused over her head, nodding for her to look. She leaned back a little, eyes pointed up without tilting her head.

Her shredded coffee cup and a mutilated section of the night-table were blending, frothing in a six-inch sphere of frozen time two feet over her head. But this sphere was vibrating, buzzing in the air, switching hundreds of times a second between a perfectly smooth round surface refraction, and something more closely resembling an angry porcupine forged into a medieval glass weapon.

"Huh." She said simply.

As she calmed her thoughts, the surface reflections smoothed out. The interior contents were forever mixed, broken. Distorted and fractured by the rapid shearing and warping of the plasticized volume of static space-time. She moved it across the room and lowered it into the well of the sink, letting time within return to normal. The ceramic, wood and coffee dropped a few inches, splashing, clanking.

"Sorry." Max said, a little embarrassed. _What the hell was that?_

"I was about to ask if you were feeling any better…" Hector gave her a little shrug and side-smile, hair dropping back in his face.

"Master empath." Max replied. A little smile.

"Only through her. Well…I thought so anyway."

"Oh. Shit. Hector - I'm such an insensitive asshole. I'm so sorry. You're here - but where is she? Is…Sophie okay?"

Hector told her briefly about the abduction in France, his search for Sophie through southern Germany, his stream glitch - and all that came with that, the travel, Max's rescue, right up through the present.

"Damn. That's…pretty hardcore… I promise we'll find her. Chloe too. And I just…thanks. For coming here. For…being here. For trying to help. I mean it."

"It's cool Max. Same to you. I talked with John Michaels. I know you launched the big search for us too."

He paused, returned to his almost question. "But back to you for a sec - really, what are you feeling?"

"I thought you could tell now?"

"I can. To a point. But it's not like when it's through her though. No detail, just surface. Basic."

"Damn. I was going to ask if there was anything magical you could…you know…do for up here…" she pointed to her head, making a swirly crazy motion with her finger and hand.

"You already know the cause of what you're feeling Max. You aren't dealing with repressed mysteries. Trauma, yes. But…I can listen. I can talk. I've seen a lot of minds with her over the years - I understand the paths people take to heal. Get better. It will take time. Whenever, whatever you'd like. I might be able to help point you in a direction. But after. You just woke up… You need to take care of the rest of you first. Restoring the body is easier, and trust me, it will help with your spirit."

She nodded. She was feeling like shit physically too.

Hector saw her nod, and continued. "You should finish eating. Please. I'll make you another cup of coffee before I go. Try not to destroy this one?" He played it straight. "I'll only be a half hour. Quick run to the shops to get you some street clothes and shoes. You're a little smaller than Sophie, so I'll try to be close. The shower's in there. I bought some soaps, shampoo and stuff for you when I was out getting food. What they had here wasn't very good."

"Thanks…" She nodded.

With that, he got up to make her another coffee, then left her the room.

* * *

 **Max** stood under the hot water of the shower for a good long while, letting the steam wash into her as much as the harsh spray. It took her a moment to realize why the water coming off of her was black. The temporary dye she'd gotten in New York. This was the first time she'd washed her hair since. She worked the knots out with her fingers, shampooed a second time to get all of the black out. It wasn't really her anyway. She could see in her reflection in the shower-head that the blue in front was still there, but her roots had grown in a little. _Such a trivial thing to notice right now_ , she decided, a little angry at herself.

She finally got out, feeling cleaner, if not refreshed. Brushed her teeth. That helped more than she thought it might. Brushed her hair, and walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Hector was back, saw her and averted his eyes before turning around. He didn't seem embarrassed or weird about it, just giving her a little privacy. _Of course. He'd been traveling like this with Sophie for years. This must be so weird for him, with her still out there somewhere too._

"I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I got basics. A few t-shirts, some different jeans. Department store underwear and socks. Vans. Hope it's okay."

"Thanks Hector. This is great. I just… thanks." _He didn't have to do any of this. He should still be over there, looking for Sophie…_ She picked up the bag and went back to the vanity behind the wall, changed.

After, she looked at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. IV marks fading from the tops of her hands. No makeup. Bags under her eyes. Still felt like crap.

Then she remembered. "I am _such_ a dumbass."

"What was that?" said Hector in the other room.

"Talking to myself. Out in a sec."

She pushed into a freeze, accelerated her body clock forward by about forty-eight hours. Rapid healing, plus advanced MaxTime. When she came out of it, she felt a million times better.

On the outside anyway.

It was something.

She came out into the room. Hector tossed her another bottle of water, which she caught. "You need about three more of these today, at least. Trust me."

"Thanks. Hey - earlier, when I asked how long it had been, you said a couple of weeks?"

"Yeah."

"What's the date?"

"16th. Still December."

"Shit. We need to figure out a way to get a hold of John."

"Yeah, don't sweat it. His dudes gave me a sat phone before pointing me at you." He went over to his duffel, pulled it out and handed it to her. "He wanted to talk to you too. I can give you some space if you wanna speak privately?"

"I was hoping for a speakerphone kind of thing. You should be on this too. I want to hear what's happening with Sophie, and I don't care if you hear any of the rest - we're all on the same team."

"Speed dial 1 gets you John's sat phone."

* * *

 **Max** hit the speakerphone button, mashed the speed dial and set the phone between them on the table.

After a brief ring, "Michaels."

"Hey John. It's Hector and Max." She said. "You're on speaker."

"You got her! That's…great news! Hang on - a few of the guys want to listen in. …Max - how are you?"

"I don't have the words for how I'm feeling right now, John." Max said with an edge to her voice.

"Chloe? Tell me. What happened?" His voice concerned.

Haltingly, she told them everything. It was painful, but she knew they needed to hear it more than she needed to keep it bottled up inside. Hector was listening to this for the first time too. It took a while for her to get it all out, and she was in and out of tears several times before she was done. She couldn't hide her feelings - a confusing mash of devastation, pity, fear, guilt, haunting sadness, and over it all, a soul-consuming fury… Hector offered his hand as a show of support during the more difficult memories. But they let her finish in her own time. Wiping away her tears again, she glanced up. Hector was staring into the distance with a rage in his eyes. _He's worried about Sophie too. Might be the same dickheads._

After a pause, John said in a low, hard voice "I'll kill that motherfucker myself."

She didn't doubt his sincerity. But that wasn't her plan. "Dibs."

"I was thinking maybe we take turns." countered Hector, no trace of humor left in him.

"You know, that actually isn't the worst idea… I could keep that rewind party going for days."

"We've got a room full of raised hands in favor on our side Max." offered John.

Max paused, her train of thought shifting back to the present problems. "John, you know these assholes better than me. I need to know. Honestly. With everything, they'll see this as an escape, right? Will they hurt Chloe again?"

"Shit, Max, I'm so sorry you two had to go through that at all. I… will they hurt her? I don't think so. I can't be sure - I mean, _none of this_ really makes sense to any of us. You're special, but Roland is operating way outside the normal boundaries. He shouldn't have been able to take over our operation like he did. Not that quickly. And the part about him sitting on intel about a terrorist plot with a WMD on US soil for more than three years, without alerting _anyone,_ is just complete fucking insanity. At minimum, it's aiding and abetting, more likely, it's straight up treason in a time or war - which is a death penalty thing for sure. I can't believe that doing nothing is any kind of officially sanctioned op. And if it is, whoever gave the green light also needs to be brought up on charges. Or switched off. I'm making a few calls once we're done. This doesn't scan."

"But you don't know for sure? If they'll hurt her more for this?"

"I really don't think so. What they did to her before was an attack on you, not her. They let you rewind her back once they broke you…"

That stung Max more than a little. Even if it was true.

Hector felt the change, and saw the look on Max's face. He interrupted John. "Hang on John. Sorry. Look…Max - _everyone breaks_ under that kind of pressure. No exceptions. Torture. Duress. Whatever. Everyone. _You didn't fail her."_

"It _is_ my fault though. I fucked up, Hector. I walked right into a goddamn trap. I was cocky, unprepared, I could have frozen before walking into asshole central, but…I didn't. They drugged my powers away before I could react, before I could counter, or freeze, and by then it was too late. _And I couldn't do shit to stop them from hurting her once they had me like that._ "

Hector held her gaze. "These assholes have been doing this kinda shit for a long time. _No offense guys._ Lots of people have died by torture. No one has ever been brought back. Any survivors usually live with the trauma for the rest of their lives. But not her. Your power allowed you to undo all of it. Physical. Psychological. Emotional. All effects gone forever, _for everyone but yourself._ To Chloe, right now, it's like none of it ever happened. Except for what she saw on your face after. You didn't fail Max. You saved her. Erased it. Don't forget that."

John jumped back in. "He's right. They tried to make _you_ the victim here Max. I mean, you're the only one who remembers any of it, right? It was meant as a collar on you."

"I want it off."

John missed her comment in the time delay of the transmission. "And no offense taken Hector. But I need to say - it hasn't been my experience - our experience. Not that I'm doubting things have happened like you say - and obviously they did with Chloe - just saying I haven't seen this in any ops until now."

"Welcome to the war, John. Shit's been standard for a few generations." Hector said.

John, without sounding defensive, replied "Obviously, bad shit happens all over the world. I get that. We…get that. But it's not _supposed_ to happen here. We're not supposed to be the bad guys. It's a stain on all of us."

"You're not the bad guys, John. Sophie saw that about you, your teammates in Vegas. But there are bad guys up and sideways from you. A lot of them. Need to wake up to that shit, dude. They aren't doing good."

"I'm starting to get that picture. But not everyone, not every team, mission, is the same. Talents are rare, and I've only worked on a handful of potentials myself, almost all were false alarms. But there are other layers, other organizations or networks that might be more specialized, different protocols, rules of engagement, different temperaments, different missions. Maybe with little or even no oversight. There's a chance Roland and his group might be one of those. He might also be completely rogue, playing deep inside what is a very secretive compartmented system." John said.

"It doesn't matter." Max coldly interrupted. "It's coming down. Even if everyone besides Roland and that stupid fucking doctor are completely innocent. Even if they don't know about torture or the fucking nuke. Killing talents for existing. Threatening people's families. Murdering innocent people, including small children? _Chloe_. Even we knew this was gonna be a fucking problem…"

"Max, I'm not arguing with you. At all. And I'm not defending that system. I'm just saying that most people think they're working for something that does some good in the world. And a lot of it does. They're not all Roland. You know that right?"

"I do. But enough are. Someone made these decisions John. Someone carried them out. And a whole lot of people supported the machinery that made it possible for these ideas to have a way to become real. Hurting Chloe was part of a fucking _plan_. Someone signed a check. Someone is responsible."

"I feel like we've gotten off track…" John said, cut off again.

Max continued. "I don't know exactly what this means, and I don't care. The whole fucking thing is coming down John. All of it. We'll rebuild the parts that do real good. In a way that can't be abused like this. The rest _has to go_. Once I figure out how. Who. The budgets. Decision makers. After we have Chloe back. After we have Sophie back. And after we deal with that fucking explosion. I just don't know how to get there yet. I feel trapped. It's all still the same as when I came to you and Sam weeks ago, except now if I try to help, they'll torture Chloe to death again."

"I know Max. I know. We've been talking about your original question over here off speaker - Roland working Chloe was a warning not to interfere _if you got away from them_. You said they said that, right?"

"Yeah. Roland said it right to my face."

"So that means they half expected you to get out. And the threat against her was their safety move if you did. Means they probably won't do anything as punishment for escaping. But given what they've done so far, I think we need to take them at their word that they'll do it again if you try to rescue her, or try to help in Vegas."

"I wish I could be in three places at once." Max said. "And that I knew where two more of them were."

"We might have some good news then. At least on one out of two. We think we've located where Sophie's being held. The 'by who' part is a little fuzzy. Doesn't seem to run like a typical US op, so we're not sure yet. We've been watching the place for two days. We have a few roach-bots heading down some vents for recon, but they won't be done mapping until tomorrow morning. If we get confirmation or strong hints that she's there, we're going in tomorrow, just after sunset."

Max could sense Hector tense up a little. _He wants to be there. He thinks he failed his 'her' too._ "I'll be okay Hector." she nodded. "Take the jet."

"Are you sure Max?" He seemed hesitant and relieved at the same time.

"I'm sure. You should be there. You've done more than enough already."

"What will you do?" asked Hector.

"I don't know what I can do." she replied. "I'm in a box."

"You're free now. Is the box real? Max, you _control time_. My nana would have made a big deal about how that was a power reserved by God. I know you feel like you took a hit. And you did. But…I have faith in you dude."

"Hector, you and Chloe would really get along."

"Okay Max, try this. What do you _want_ to do?" asked John.

"I want to go get Chloe. I want to help Sam in Vegas. I want to kill Roland a few hundred thousand times. And I'd like to try to help with Sophie."

John answered first. "That's too much. We've got Sophie covered. And she might help lead us to Chloe."

"And if I help Sam, they'll kill Chloe before you can get to Sophie. And I can't go to Chloe without knowing where she is." Max was sharing the same tight coil of impossibility she'd been turning over in her head.

Hector spoke. "Max, I'm just going to say this. I know it's hard. I don't want to push you in any direction. You haven't had anywhere near enough time to process what you've been through, and it's not fair. But sometime in the next day, a quarter million people are going to end."

"I…I know Hector. But…" … _not this again… Is this my karma for choosing her over Arcadia Bay?_

"I'm not asking you to value their lives more highly than Chloe's…"

 _…history repeating in bigger and bigger loops? I won't ever let her go though. Not ever._

"I've failed that one myself. But…what would she want you to do?"

"No."

"Max?" Hector prodded.

"No. I won't sacrifice her. And I won't sacrifice all those people either."

Hector paused for a moment. "What does that leave Max? You can't do nothing. I mean, I'd understand, but… They'll never let her go. The bomb will explode. You'll be sacrificing _everything._ "

* * *

 **Max** was caught off guard. Out of nowhere she felt panic. No way out. Her heart rate increased. Breath shallow. She needed a break for a second. She froze the call, John, Hector, the world.

Rested her eyes. She took in this moment. Felt the quiet of the freeze. Calmed herself. The shaking. She stayed for a minute, simply existing. Let it all go. She opened her eyes, picking up her thoughts with a measured reminder of a few things John and Hector had said that stood out.

 _Chloe is fine. You didn't fail her._

 _This was an attack on you. Your confidence. Your memories._

 _You could erase it for everyone but yourself._

 _They tried to make you a victim…_

 _…I have faith in you dude._

 _I can't sacrifice either of them. I won't make that choice again. But Hector's right. I can't do nothing either. Not enough time. If I hadn't been under for the past couple of weeks, maybe. So what does that leave?_

A wall she couldn't get over.

 _What would Chloe say? Really? She'd want me to save all those people. No contest. Just like she offered herself in exchange for Arcadia. Offered. She offered. What if it's not about that? What if I'm coming at this all wrong? If our roles were reversed, and she was the one with the powers, what would I tell her? I'd tell her to save Vegas. Duh. Shit. Right._

A wall she couldn't go around.

 _Wait. We've already talked about this for real._

 _And if it came down to a binary choice, we agreed what?_

It was coming back to her, the conversation. The one she wasn't supposed to forget.

 _Kobayashi Maru. She'd want me to save people. She said to stay light-side. Don't let them control me under any circumstances._

 _And what was my response? I won't choose. Go Kirk. Cheat. Change the fucking rules. Rewrite reality. Find another way._

 _Gun to the head? Maybe you die. I'll find a way to bring you back…time traveler…_

 _I am a time traveler._

 ** _I am a time traveler._**

 _Or…am I?_

 _That's not right either._

Another voice. A returning memory of a narrated cave dream, China…

 _And Max, the observer, was floating in her own bubble universes, navigating, duplicating herself, blending in, fading out, jumping branch points between newly fragmented prisms, stepping outside to slide from one thought to the next. Orbiting Chloe. Always Chloe. Max was anti-entropy linked to directive consciousness, and that consciousness had a priority, a goal. Her.'_

 ** _Time manipulation is just a symptom of your powers. Wake up Max._**

 _The fuck does it mean? How does it help?_

 _What if the last part wasn't literal?_

 _Wasn't talking about from actual sleep?_

 _What had Chloe said at my parents' house?_

 _From Dune - The sleeper must awaken?_

 _Something buried?_

 _I don't know how. Or if._

 _You aren't a time traveler Max._

 _You manipulate time._

 _Control time._

 _That's not the same thing…_

 _One is a passenger on a train._

 _The other… is the power of a god?_

 _And if time manipulation isn't the power, just a symptom?_

 _What does that even mean?_

 _Chloe. She wanted me to promise._

 _This is about the future. Not the immediate future. The long term future._

 _Shit. Right._

Max was coming back to herself a little.

 _She's right._

 _I…can't let them control me._

 _If the bomb goes off, they still have her._

 _What will they want from me next?_

 _I won't be their fucking victim._

 _Or their puppet._

 _And I can't leave her behind. Won't._

 _I won't let that bomb explode._

 _I won't give up on her. No matter what._

 _If I have to do this loop for the next hundred years._

 _The final timeline_ ** _will be fucking shiny._** _I made her a promise._

 _Myself too. There can be no Max without Chloe._

 _At some point, I'll learn where she is._

 _Worst case, I could spin back, freeze, deal with the bomb, walk to wherever they're holding her?_

 _Almost as good as being in two places at once?_

 _Might take a while, depending… Eh. I have new shoes._

 _And I will rip out his fucking spine._

 _That's not dark-side, babe._

 _Chloe aside, dude's gonna let a fucking nuke go off in the middle of a city._

 _Nope. Not dark side to kill him._

 _It's a goddamn public service._

 _And…maybe a teeny bit therapy._

Remembering Chloe in her lap, in her truck bed the night after the underground casino in Seattle… Even after a different set of horrific shit, Chloe said to her " _We're a team. We're always going to be a team…"_

It finally came back to Max; her own words to Chloe the night she found her way back through the deadman photo switch.

 _"But if you're ever in a dark place, and there are any doubts - remember what I'm saying. Believe in us Chloe. We'll always find a way."_

 _Believe in us._

 _Us. Not me. Us. We're a fucking team._

 _We're the only team. And…our team is bigger now._

 _We take turns._

 _It's not all on me._

 _It's not just me._

 _I don't have to try to control everything._

 _Believe in us._

Cascading thoughts triggered memory of a voice.

Something another in a different dream had said to her, a reminder.

Or a directive?

"Because you need to hear them. Because she's still out there. Because she is alone."

"Have faith Max. Trust in both of you."

"But…"

"You'll have other choices to make soon."

The messages… from four different points along their recent journey together. Chloe's to her. Her words to Chloe. And two separate messages delivered to herself from her subconscious - or to her subconscious in two distinct voices from outside?

Outside what?

What if her dreams hadn't been her subconscious?

What if the visions hadn't been metaphors?!

What if they were all communications?

What if they were all real?

She grabbed the pad of paper and pen next to the window.

She missed writing in a journal, where the words always solidified things for her.

Wrote them all down together with a couple of side notes.

 _"We're a team. We're always going to be a team." (forever)_

 _"Believe in us Chloe. We'll always find a way." (no matter what)_

Have faith Max. Trust in both of you. _(it's okay to let go)_

 ** _Time manipulation is a symptom of your powers._** _(?)_

Max looked at the notepad. Reread the words.

 _What if it's not about choosing._

 _What if it's not all about me?_

 _What if it's not about sacrifice at all?_

 _Why do I have these powers?_

 _Why do they exist?_

 _Why am I here?_

 _Why are we here?_

She waved off the freeze. The calm, the focus, her time, had done their jobs. She wasn't better, but for the first time since she last saw Chloe, she felt hopeful for reasons she couldn't yet explain.

* * *

 **Max** looked at Hector. What had he said, right before the freeze? _'You'll be sacrificing everything.'_

She slid right back into the conversation without missing a beat. A familiar skill.

"I know it seems that way Hector. But no. I won't choose between them. I won't sacrifice Chloe. And I won't sacrifice a quarter of a million people. I think I understand now. If I'm right, I won't have to."

"What are you getting at Max?" said John.

"I'm choosing the path where everyone lives. The path without sacrifice. We've done enough of that."

"Max? Not sure I follow."

"It's okay John. You guys focus on Sophie. I don't know how yet, but…I have a feeling everything will be okay. This can't all be for nothing. It can't all be coincidence…" _Maybe I am losing my mind... But it's a way forward._

She looked across the table. Hector was reading the notepad upside down. Probably appeared out of thin air to him. "Hector, would you mind if I tagged along as far as Las Vegas before you take the jet to Germany?"


	24. Transitions

**Hector** swiveled his plush leather seat to face Max. The flight from LAX to McCarran would take fewer than forty-five minutes. Max sat quietly, eyes out the window. She looked a million miles away. More out of contemplation than dread, he thought. Still, she looked smaller than she should in her chair.

Hector still wasn't sure what changed in her earlier, toward the end of the call. Something to do with what she wrote on the notepad. She didn't seem to be manic or anything. She just had a more than rationally optimistic view than he would have thought possible prior to the change, whatever its cause.

Under normal conditions, he'd assume, without judgement, that she was retreating back into the safety of denial behavior. She'd only been conscious for a handful of hours in total since they they…killed…Chloe. But he knew these weren't normal conditions. He was also reluctant to assume that her mind would appear to work the same way as a normal person's.

He didn't know what she experienced in her drugged state for those weeks. He'd been in her mind with Sophie, so he knew she seemed like a normal girl, but she operated in vastly different and variable time scales, and with her powers splitting and growing as they did, he wasn't sure if physiological or psychological divergence would occur at some point. But by every indication, she was behaving normally for what she'd been through otherwise. Maybe she had to push some of it aside for now to move forward.

It was pretty clear that she'd taken some personal time. When the notepad appeared. That was all good, especially if she was using to work through some emotions. She didn't have to do it alone, of course, but she knew that. Time and guided therapy were the two best things for her right now. She had the first covered in abundance. Once they had Sophie free and out from whatever was blocking her abilities, they'd be there to help Max work through it all, if she wanted. This wasn't unfamiliar territory.

 _It also wouldn't be a bad idea for Chloe to participate_ , he thought. To help her understand what Max was going through as they were together, and as reinforcement for Max that Chloe is currently whole, and didn't directly experience the horrors Max remembered.

Hector raised his voice above the ambient noise of the engines and flow of air outside. "Max, you need another water." Not to be a hen, but she did need another water.

She nodded, got up and went to the lacquered walnut refrigerator near the cockpit, bringing him back one as well. "The seats turn into beds if you swivel and extend them together." she pointed to the controls on the side if his chair.

He looked, nodded.

"And if you need food, there's snacks in all of the cabinets up there, and the co-pilot should pop back to feed you around normal meal times if you're awake. TV remote is down in that cubby, wifi login is on the mirror over there, and a phone is under the armrest there if you need it for any reason."

"Thanks again Max. I know Sophie and I can't ever really repay you. And I know it's not about that, but thank you just the same. It means a lot. Especially with everything in front of you right now."

She nodded in acceptance, sat down across from him.

"I noticed the paper with your writing earlier. It's good that you write things down. It will probably help you a little as you work through your feelings. You might think about keeping a journal again. And sorry - kinda read what you wrote. Last line about your powers…"

"Yeah," she replied. "Not sure what it means yet. It's come up before, but…"

"You're still learning new things." Not a question. He and Sophie knew it the first time they connected with her mind. Not that long ago for him, although he knew it had been more time for Max.

"Seems like."

"You know that's not how it works, right? Symbiotic talents can sometimes mature between people, but there's nothing like what you've done. Might do. No one who can just 'get' new powers…"

She was already facing toward him, but leaned in a little more so she could speak in a normal voice. "In a prior timeline, John said that there was a genetic component to talents. Something about markers in the DNA is how they know."

"I've heard that. It makes sense, right - has to come from somewhere. Code." He paused, but she didn't speak. "It's not like that for you, is it?"

She shook her head. "He didn't say exactly. Not in so many words. But…I don't think so."

"Not shocked. There's a pattern with talents. Exceptions, but it's mostly electrical. Brain wave stuff. Some mental time shifting, obviously." Pointing at his own head. "Some oddballs like jumpers, telekinetics. I was amazed when I first learned what you could do. Even more amazed to learn that the list was, is, still expanding."

"Remember that first night we all met? Sophie said we were like babies, guarding a bar of gold from pirates…"

"That was then. I feel sorry for the pirates now." He wasn't kidding. He cracked open his water, took a sip while considering. There was something else. Something he'd always wondered. Probably too obvious.

"Max - can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." she folded her hands in front of her, elbows on her knees as she sat forward.

"Why photos?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's the only part of your powers that relies on something external to work. Doesn't fit with the rest."

"I don't really know. Discovered it by accident. Focused, and there I was, like five years back. While I was there, I couldn't go far from where the photo was taken. At first, I'd always get pulled back to the present-present into whatever my body was doing for the amount of time I was gone."

"Changed?"

"Yeah. A lot of things did after that first week. We decided it was something from the future. A care package sent back? Or something went super wrong. Or Chloe's favorite, some alternate Max in completely different universe exploded, sending fragments of herself to Maxes across the multiverse. Or something. Whatever it was, it left me with a better handle on some skills, a few fragments of memories from forward. Or some version of some possible forward somewhere, at least. Assume it's here, or something close. But we can't really know. Shit-tons more questions than answers."

"Do you think the photos themselves have powers? Are they magical in any way?" He knew the answer, but wanted to set up the logic path to the real question.

"No - I think they're just a strong focus point."

"But it's still your memory that makes them work?"

"That's why it doesn't work with random photos from other people. It has to be something I'm in, or something I took."

"Memory."

"Yeah."

"Have you ever considered the possibility…that you might not need photos to jump? Just a strong memory of a moment? Something you can visualize in your head?"

"I…uh… Well, I mean… Yeah, I've thought about it - in that it would be nice if it could work like that. Relying on them is a real limitation. And a vulnerability. But have I really tried or anything before? No. Not…really. Which seems super dumb when you ask it so clearly like that."

"Just something to think about Max. Your ability to freeze objects happened at the same time Chloe gave you the idea. Thought maybe I could contribute. Help you remember - or create - a new power. We don't work that way, but…seems like you might." He shrugged. "Try it for fun sometime. Ten bucks says you can." He leaned back in the seat, hands behind his head.

"I'd be happy to lose that bet. Any other bright ideas while I have you?" she smiled again.

"Ever try flying?"

"You and Chloe have totally been texting behind my back, haven't you?"

* * *

 **Chloe** just finished her morning exercises when the knock came. Escorts? It felt too early for her daily trip to the showers. "I'm dressed." she called out. They usually waited until she responded now. She wasn't here voluntarily, but they weren't hardcore prison guards or anything, and weren't treating her with any hostility. Another couple of weeks of this, and she might get them to lower their guard enough that she could walk right out. _Wishful thinking. But you never know…_

The door opened. It was Nuria. She pushed in a cart with a few medical instruments and something under a napkin.

Chloe smiled. "Is that for me?"

"Yes, of course. It's warm. Fresh from the cafeteria."

Chloe lifted the napkin for a peek, and saw a fresh apple tart on top of a small paper plate.

Nuria smacked her hand away lightly. "After."

Chloe pretended to sulk.

"Okay - just a bite, then I need to record some vitals and give you some vitamin shots. You don't get any sunlight at all. And you use as many nutrients in your exercise as we give you in food."

Chloe jammed a third of the tart in her mouth and bit down.

Nuria said "You know there's a saying that relates to that…"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Mhrmph. Hrmlphf."

"Sit. Give me your arm." She clipped the monitor to Chloe's finger, then wrapped the pressure cuff, pumped it up and counted. Wrote a few figures down on the pad. Did a quick dilation check with a flashlight. Chloe was still chewing. Didn't look like Nuria had been sleeping. Her eyes were more hollow by the day, and her hair was messier than yesterday, frizzing, quickly jammed into a ponytail. Chloe didn't know what her daily life was like outside of their interactions, but something intense was obviously going on with her. There was another nurse who did this every few days, but Nuria had done it once or twice before. She liked it when Nuri came by herself. Better than just video.

"I apologize in advance Chloe. This is going to pinch, and I'm more sorry that I'll need to repeat it five times. But we shouldn't need to do this again soon. And it should give you more energy."

Chloe shrugged, swallowed the last of her giant bite of appley sugary goodness.

Nuria removed the cuff and monitor, then loaded the tall green glass bottle onto the top of the injector. "I'll make this quick." She took Chloe's left hand, turned it, palm up, and touched the injector to her inner arm, a couple of inches up from her wrist. Chloe winced. She repeated the process on her right arm, then had Chloe get up and turn around. She sent another into the back of each calf, and a ridiculously painful shot into her back between her shoulder blades, and the final one into the small of her back. "Ow!"

"Sorry. Sorry. We're all done. You will be sore for a couple of hours, like a knot, but will depart soon after." Nuria set aside the empty injector, picked up the two-thirds of the tart that remained, and handed the plate to Chloe, along with another napkin from the tray.

"Thanks Nuri. Hey - I don't mean to be nosey or anything, but, like, are you doing okay?"

Nuria paused, as if deciding what to say. "It's sweet that you would ask Chloe. Thank you. Some…bad things, but…all we can do is try to make things different, hopefully. I'll…be okay." She looked sad, but she still gave Chloe a smile and a nod. Nuria touched her on the shoulder before turning and wheeling the cart out. Looked back once more before the door shut.

* * *

 **Max** checked in to her room at the Paris Hotel. Top floor suite. She had the clothes she was wearing, thanks to Hector. And a bag from the plane with a few changes of clothes and other supplies from her disguise shopping spree in New York, before she'd headed to LA as Marabel Wren. She'd left all of Marabel's documents and IDs on the plane when she went to Sam's in LA, so she didn't believe this alias had been compromised. And if it had, it didn't really matter at this point.

She looked in the mirror. _Come at me brah…_

 _Yeah…don't…don't ever say that out loud Max… Just…no_.

She wasn't planning to walk into any open spaces or new rooms without freeze-checking them first for a while. Just in case. She sat down on the antique-looking sofa, popped her feet up onto the gold leaf table, and clicked on the TV to a news channel, volume muted. Something distracting, but not defocusing. Changed the channel away from angry yelley people and over to something about sea otters. Because sea otters. _Obvs_.

She unscrewed the top to yet another water bottle, took a drink. _See Hector? I'm drinking!_

What Hector asked her before the landing was interesting. She hadn't considered the last one. She didn't know the answer of course. What was she doing? Discovering powers? Remembering them? _Or creating them?_ The implications of any of those possibilities were mind-blowing, but especially the last one.

'They're just so specific' he'd said. It was the photo jumps that made him think of it. No photos exist in nature, so how would a power know about them, then require them, in order for itself to work?

If she could create simple, useful powers, what would they be?

She'd stopped that first bullet on the rooftop, and every bullet since, with a power borne of Chloe's suggestion. And modified it in new and useful ways in the time since. But she could catch objects without her eyes playing any significant role. If she could figure out how she was sensing the bullets fast enough to react to them, could she do the same with tranquilizer darts? They were bigger. Slower. Maybe set up an automated perimeter of some kind? _That_ would be useful.

 _Yeah body - get right on that please?_

 _Shit. I have no idea how this stuff works. Or why. I don't think it's as simple as just wanting it. Or needing it. But if not that, what is it dependent on? If I understood my power, really understood it, a lot of this stuff would make more sense I bet._

Sedatives, and the stubborn reliance on photos for jumping back; those were the two things she had lingering trouble with. Another day. _Only so much I can process at once._

Hector left her the sat phone when he took off to meet up with John. She lifted it from her open bag and hit speed dial number two. Sam.

Before they got off the phone earlier, John said he'd bring Sam up to speed, but Max wanted to talk to him herself too. If there was any kind of prep or anything tomorrow morning, it would be good to get in on that. She still didn't know where she was taking the stupid bomb once she had it.

* * *

 **Nuria** folded the letter and placed it in the envelope she'd prepared earlier. She wasn't sure if it would be delivered. She would have used email, but she knew her note would be blocked.

This thin collection of atoms would at least have a chance.

And even if she never read it, writing had helped Nuria come to a sort of peace.

Maybe it would help her too.

She pushed back her chair, finished the last of her bourbon, set the glass next to her hairbrush and empty pill containers. She turned off her desk light, walked across the darkened room and sat on her bed. Pulled her hair out of the band, letting it fall long down her back. She kissed her fingers, touched them to the photo of her parents on her nightstand, as she'd always done.

Then she turned off her lamp for a final time, before falling to the deepest sleep.

* * *

 **Max** woke up to the buzzing of a text on her sat phone.

She focused her eyes in the dark. Clock said five am. Text was from Sam. He wasn't supposed to pick her up until seven.

They were taking going to take her out to the bomb-disposal and forensics lab site, go through the plan, and she'd be back in the city by nine. She could rewind if she needed to, if they put the bomb out earlier or something. She never did get a time of day in the couple of dreams she'd had about it. The site where Sam and his team would be waiting was a good ten miles north, in a ringed desert valley. Once she had the bomb, she'd be walking it to them in the freeze, so she put together a little kit for her messenger bag last night with bottled water, fruit and cheese snacks, and a white grandma-style bucket hat. _Highest of fashions._

Her eyes focused enough to read the contents of the text. After, she read it again. Then one more time.

"Holy shit!" her heart leapt right out of her chest as she shot up in bed, the message finally sinking in.

 _Sam:: Located Chloe. Extraction team breaching, going after her in one hour. Will have a full update by the time we pick you up at seven. Thot u should know._

She got up, turned on the lights, read it again.

 _Fuck._

 _Sam!_

 _Fuck yeah!_

Happy tears rolled in. She felt like a million pounds were just lifted off her back…

She texted back _:: Tell them good luck. U fucking rule! 3 !_

When she talked with him last night, he mentioned he'd had low-key feelers out for a couple of weeks trying to find her. Thought he might have something soon. But this…was _fucking awesome!_

Yay universe!

She _knew_ something would happen to make everything work out.

Didn't know how, but she _knew_ it would.

 _Bigger team. More chances for chaos…_

 _What a fucking relief._ Just knowing they had a location if nothing else. It meant there was a way to get to her. _No matter what now. I can freeze and walk if I have to._

As long as everything went well… but Sam knew where she was. Even if it went to shit, she'd hear about it in the car, could rewind back, text Sam the details, and he could warn the team what to watch out for. She was wide awake now.

She stopped in the living room, sat on the arm of a chair. Felt a fresh wave of happy wash over her. She held her head in her hand, bending at the waist. She let out a deep breath as she stood back up. _Woah. This is fucking huge._ Her spine tingled, even as her heart rate dropped back to something approaching normal.

 _You're my fucking hero, Sam. For reals. We owe you SO big time dude._

 _John and Hector should be going after Sophie in a few hours too. And there won't be any consequences for going after the bomb now. We could wrap on all of this today… Get the band back together, then it's time to go after that fucking weasel Roland. Arnault too. Then we tear the whole fucking thing down._

 _Boom motherfuckers!_

 _That's how Team Chloe & Max & Friends & other…friends…roll! …Bitches?_

 _Need a way shorter team name…_

 _These are gonna be the longest two hours ever… Said the time tra… manipulator? That sounds so weird though. Let's just stick with… Time Lord? Time Goddess? That's Chloe's favorite, for sure. Has ring. Maybe too grandiose._

 _Master of future, time-space and dimension? More humble. But maybe still too long…_

 _Squirrel wrangler?_

 _I really can't wait until our days are that simple again._

 _Soon squirrelios. You will be all be mine. Ours I mean. I'll share. But…only with her._

She sat on the sofa, realized she was still gripping the phone.

She stilled for a moment, lost in thought.

 _I can't wait to see you again love!_

* * *

 **Hector** landed a couple of hours ago. Surprisingly, he was able to get a decent block of sleep on the fight over. Max was right. Those seats were comfortable. He'd stayed up all night while Max slept her way out of the sedatives in LA, so it didn't take him long after he left her in Vegas to crash out.

John had a driver waiting to pick him up and bring him to their makeshift staging area, half a block from the water in St. Goarshausen, in the Loreley Valley along the Rhein. The valley, the town, the river and hills on the drive in were so beautiful. He understood why this area would be popular with tourists. But as he found out, they also presented a problem…

Hector was escorted up to HQ. They had a few hotel rooms, including one set aside as their 'command center'. Which was mostly a laptop and a tiny projector, with some printouts.

Hector walked in, saw John and gave him a nod. "Dude."

John grinned, met him halfway to the door with outstretched hand. "Gotta stop meeting like this."

The others stopped what they'd been doing. He recognized them all from Vegas. They'd shared time in the link, along with a couple dozen others, watching for Dmitri's rifle shot at Max. There'd been too many names and faces to remember then.

"We're in your debt guys. I feel like I should know your names." he said.

John did the honors, going clockwise around the room. "Sorry. Manners. Pretty one over there is Tyrell Williams, no relation to Samuel. He's our tank. Next to him is Steve Simmons. We call him Mr. Backup. Or Steve 1, depending on the day."

"Hey!" said the next guy the sequence.

"That's Mr. Disruptive. Steve Harrison. Or Steve 2 as he loves to be called today. He's comms and tech. Matt Leung, strategy and healer. And Jeremy Strauss. He's our EO guy and escape artist."

"Nice to meet you all. I'm…"

"Hector!" they all yelled at once, busted out laughing.

"…right."

"Everyone here's a generalist, cross-trained, but the specialty tags are so everyone understands the balance of roles. Changes op to op. Anyway, this is your team."

"Got it." said Hector. "Not sure exactly where I fit in on the roll side yet. …what's the plan?"

Everyone else was briefed, so John brought Hector up to speed.

The roach-bots confirmed that Sophie was being held in a warren of underground tunnels and rooms built under Burg Maus, a dark-stoned thirteenth century castle on a hillside a couple of miles north, along the river. The first underground structures were covertly begun during a restoration in the early 1900's. They were expanded and modernized in the early 1950's, while repairing damage to the castle sustained during allied bombing in World War II. Two distinct sets of architectures were interwoven below, while the castle itself was fully restored to historical accuracy.

Trouble was, modern Burg Maus was also a tourist attraction with a functioning aviary above ground. The only outside entrance to the underground section was through a locked door in a minor outbuilding near the inner perimeter wall. After dark was the only time they could go in without tourists and their cameras everywhere, but they detected active and passive surveillance at night, with motion sensors and thermal imagers keeping an eye on the grounds. It was a decision. They opted for fewer civilians.

John gave Hector a print of the LIDAR maps the roaches transmitted back, while talking him through everything they knew. Good news was, they knew Sophie's exact location. One roach got a close up scan, and Hector could clearly see it was her outline. Bad news was they'd have to go through a lot of winding, branching tunnels, some very narrow, to get down to her.

And they verified at least two dozen people either living or working down there. Some large sections remained completely unmapped. Might have been a different ventilation system entirely, or the bots didn't have time to find ways in. But it was another unknown. They didn't have a sense for what kind of resistance to expect. The bots hadn't detected any weapons, but that could easily have been sensor limitations. They were designed for large scale volumetric scanning and long battery life, not high precision.

Once in, they needed to go down into the mountain about six stories. Sophie was in one of a series of large tank-like rooms connected to a tangle of hallways and underground support structures for the castle above.

Hector was joining the team of six, bringing their total number to seven. John said the LA team ran into a little trouble with their plane, so he had them detour to the Atlanta hub and hold there. As nice as it would have been to have a full complement of backup, they wouldn't have made it in time. And with all the narrow hallways, more people wasn't necessarily the better option. They could at least help get a few drones in the air for support, and maybe disrupt some of the surveillance above ground.

They still needed to talk about Hector's role - John wanted him where he could do the most good, but Hector needed to absorb the intel before he could share his opinion of what that might be.

Hector knew his talent would be useful, but he didn't have any experience coordinating with a trained team like this. He didn't want to hold them back, and going off on his own while they acted as a distraction, or vice versa, presented its own challenges. Especially at a few critical chokepoints on the LIDAR map.

They were all going to talk it through in 10. Hector went heads-down into the materials.

* * *

 **Chloe** jumped, as a loud as fuck alarm went off.

She'd been chilling on the bed platform, leaned against the wall eating cafeteria pizza and salad, watching a program about bees. In Russian? Were they Russian bees? She wasn't sure. Subtitles probably would have helped. For the narrator. Bees prolly didn't need them.

Once it started, the lights in her cell flashed too. Screen turned off on its own. She heard a number of anxious voices in the near-distance. Couldn't make out what they were saying, but it all sounded confused. Like they weren't sure if it was a drill, or ?

She felt the explosion through the wall at her back, more than she heard it. The voices went silent, another boom, and they started back up again. More anxious this time. A few people ran by outside her door.

Another boom. The lights went out altogether.

The alarm sound had stopped. She could see a little bit of light underneath her door.

She could hear the voices more clearly now. Shouting directions to exits?

A few muffled thumps. Gunfire?

She didn't know if they were friends or what, but chaos was an opportunity. This is why she'd been training herself, running in circles, pushups, steps on the bed platform, cardio. She quickly rose, and felt her way to the wall next to the door, crouched under the monitor. Anyone coming in would be a chance for her rush past and get out.

More running by, more voices, fearful now.

Bap. Bap. Bap.

Thumps.

Close. Gunfire. Bodies falling. Down the halls? Upstairs? Down? She couldn't tell.

She'd have to stay low, hug the corner where the wall and floor meet, just try to sneak past if she could get outside. She tested the knob. Still locked. Damn.

An explosion - loud this time. Door shook. She could see the flashes through the gap underneath.

The door burst open with a bang.

It was dark, but she could hear cloth rustling, heavy footfalls. Before she could slide past, someone grabbed her arm, she struggled to get free.

"Price? Chloe Price?"

 _I expected Max if anyone. But maybe John? A chance!_ "Yes. I'm Chloe Price."

"Ms. Price, my name is Smith. We're here to get you to safety." A third man walked in, she could see the ring-shaped glow of the night vision optics through the skin around their eyes. She felt something really heavy placed over her head and onto her shoulders. Straps, fabric, plates? They clipped each side. "Keep this on. It's heavy; body armor. Safer. Same with this helmet. Keep the strap tight. Keep your head down."

A hand went into her armpit, lifting her. Another took hold of her hand, placed it on a strap in front of her. She felt off balance from the weight of the armor.

"This handle on my back is your lifeline. Hang onto it at all times. Do not let go. Feel my movements. Go where I go. Stop when I stop. Ever been on the back of a motorcycle? It's like that. Stay close. There will be others around you, but they're watching outward. This is your one job, Price. Do you understand?"

"Yes." she said. Her heart raced. Finally. She didn't know who to thank yet, but… "Who? Who sent you?"

"Williams. We're with Samuel Williams." Smith said, turning to follow the man out in front.

 _Booya, bitches!_ She kept hold of the strap, snug, moving behind.

Stayed low. Stopped as he stopped.

Someone around the corner was shooting toward them. Chips flew from the end wall, clattered against the floor.

Two short bursts from the guy in front, light from the flashes illuminating the walls and floor. She was pressed in against Smith, couldn't see directly.

They moved in a unit around the corner, down the hall, another turn, long hall.

Chloe saw a few bodies. All had weapons. A few staff, maybe doctors, were crouched behind doorways as they passed. Her rescuers made no effort to engage them. _Good. Nuri will probably be okay then._

A few more minor firefights as they made their way to a stairwell at the end of the hall. A few more men joined up with them in the stairwell, two went up a floor, two went down, providing additional warning and cover, with their group in the middle. One radioed that they were coming up. Chloe looked down the whole time, trying her best not to trip on the metal steps as they wound their way quickly up and up and up. Must have been twenty floors at least. So many turns. Roof top?

She finally heard a door open above, the sounds of helicopters circling. Wind. Cold night air. No lights on anything. Their little pod of people stopped just inside the door while the two in front verified the way was clear. She could feel the ground rumble as the armored vehicle pulled up. Still holding the strap, she ran with them, low, from the doorway, across sandy asphalt, up three steps into the back of the large six-wheeled vehicle, inside lit dim red.

She took a seat against one wall, facing the center aisle. Five others got in with her, not including the driver and the gunner, who was already standing up near the front of the aisle. His upper body stuck out of a protected hole in the roof, while he scanned in a circle with mounted machine guns and goggles. The thick glass panels let her see some outside, but not much. Everything was really dark. Air felt dry. Cold. _Desert?_ She could tell there were two escort attack helicopters with them, one moving farther ahead, and two Humvees with additional troops.

They were already on the move.

"Thank you!" she said, looking around to all of the men.

"Thank us once we're all the way out of here, ma'am. Shouldn't be long."

She sat back as the vehicle accelerated, hoping she'd get to see Max soon.

 _Ma'am?_

* * *

 **Max** waited at the covered roundabout drive in front of her hotel for a half hour. She didn't want to miss them. Which was stupid. They wouldn't leave without her, and she could appear precisely at the right time regardless. But she was excited to talk to Chloe. Or find out if something went wrong so she could help them fix it, _then_ talk to Chloe.

Two large black SUVs pulled in. Sam opened the back door of the second one from inside. She clambered in. Without saying a word, he handed her the sat phone.

Her hand was shaking a little. _Was it?_

"Hello?"

"Max?!"

"Chloe?!"

"Max!"

"Chloe!"

"Hi."

"Hey."

"Missed you." Chloe sounded like she was inside an engine.

"Me too."

"You good?"

"Am now. You?" Max leaned her head against the glass. Like bookended moments.

"Am now."

"I'm glad we had this little talk."

"K. Bye."

"Yeah, don't you fucking dare Price. I'm not done with you yet."

"Better not be. How'd you get sprung?"

"Hector. Turns out - surprisingly good at the whole rescue thing. You?"

"Smith. One of Sam's guys. Not-so-surprisingly good at the whole rescue thing. They're all wearing army pants. And they brought fucking attack helicopters Max - they're escorting us across the desert right now. Holy shit - it's so badass! I'm wearing body armor as we speak."

"Sexy. Anything else?"

"You'll have to see me to see me."

"Deal. I should be able to fit you in soonish. Just have a minor atom-bomb thing to sort out."

"Dinner?"

"It's a date."

"Max?"

"Yeah Chlo?"

"I'm okay, you know?"

"You said that"

"No - I mean from before. Last time we talked. Nothing…happened to me. Not to _this_ me. Everything was shiny."

"You have no idea how thankful I am for that."

"How are you though? Really?"

"Getting better. This…helps a lot. You. Now. Just knowing you're okay, and that I'm gonna see you soon."

"I can't wait."

"Me too."

"Max, these guys are looking at me like they want their phone back."

"Same on this end."

"You be careful Caulfield. Never cut the red wire."

"You're such a dork."

" _Your_ dork."

"I love you."

"I know."

"…keep it up, nerfherder…"

"Heh. Love you too Max. See you soon."

"Not soon enough."

"K. Bye."

"Bye."

Max held the phone to her ear for another minute after the line clicked dead. Just in case she came back on or something. She finally handed the phone back to Sam. "Thank you. For everything you had to do to make this happen. I know we owe you everything for this."

"It's okay Max. There might be repercussions, but…it's the right thing."

"There won't be. Not for you. Not for your family. If there are, I'll handle it personally. Like it never happened. Swear. You brought her back to me. That's everything. Makes you part of our team now. We take care of our own."

Sam nodded. "Time to focus on the next crisis."

Max smiled. "We got this."

She leaned back, so goddamn happy.

 _After everything, her brain goes right to 'date night'…_

 _She's just the right amount of everything._


	25. Bomb squad

**Max** stared at the oversized black duffel. It leaned against a curved stone bannister overlooking the lake at Bellagio, on the corner where Bellagio Drive met Las Vegas Boulevard. Across the street, Paris. Looming above, the shining tower of the Cosmopolitan. Further beyond, Planet Hollywood and City Center. So many people from all over the world in such a small area.

She realized she was already tired. Not enough sleep. _Worth it._ It was late-morning, but the streets were crowded. Traffic. Pedestrians. Tourists snapping photos, or just taking in the scenery. Families, groups of friends walking from one casino to the next. Hungover zombies, in search of food. Vegas was dense, but expansive at the same time. Downtown anyway. It was easy to lose all sense of scale. As far away as you might think something was, it was probably twice as far. And four times as large.

This was the the epicenter, vaporized in her dreams. Ground zero. And this bag was the only thing she could see that looked really out of place. That, and a section of chain link someone dumped over into the water. But metal wires seemed an unlikely shape for an atomic bomb. Aside from its size, almost four feet long by two high and two wide, the duffel appeared mundane. Black zippers ran a u-shape along the top. It had handles, and a carrying strap. Some sort of internal structure as far as she could tell - it was leaning diagonally, but didn't sag underneath. And there was nothing and no one around it. Just a gigantic lonely bag on a street corner. Had to be it.

Sam said it could be as little as fifty pounds, or as much as a truck. She wasn't planning to touch it though. Even fifty was way too heavy for her to comfortably move, much less lift. And carrying it ten miles was just a ridiculous idea. With muscles, anyway. There was also the very real possibility that disturbing it at all might set it off.

 _Time to go._ _Gotcha, stupid bomb. Danger over for everyone else now, anyway._

She lifted it fifteen feet off the ground, threw the world outside into a hard stop. She could see all the way under it this way without having to duck. Helpful if she wanted to see where she was walking, anyway. The sphere was six feet across. There were a lot of overpasses she'd have to be careful not to run into, plus overhead wires, other infrastructure. She didn't want to carve slices out of power lines or roadways or anything. She noticed that the bannister the bag was leaned against remained on the ground, untouched. Didn't break away with the sphere. _Things must anchor differently when the sphere and the outside world are both frozen_ , she thought. She'd have to play with that later. Might be useful.

She put the bag about ten feet out in front of her, set off north along Las Vegas Boulevard. Sam had given her a map. She'd need to cut over to another street soon, cause this one curved off to the north-east in a few blocks. The shortest path meant she'd have to cross a number of freeways, and a few miles of side streets to get to the north edge of the city. From there, it was over easy terrain, but overland, not by road. Sagebrush country. If she did by road, it would be double that distance at least. Trade-offs. Her destination was a shallow runoff valley below Sheep Peak. If something went really wrong with the disarming, the ring of ridges around the valley would keep populated areas from harm. It was a precaution. Sam was waiting there with a few teams of people to disarm and then examine the device for clues. They really wanted to get the people behind it. And this way, no panic. No terror. And hopefully no follow-on invasions or wars or any of the bad things that would have happened otherwise.

She walked on a few more blocks, turning left at a corner to start her zig-zag path north.

She'd thought about bringing a skateboard or something to speed up the journey. But she knew she was a just a poseur when it came to riding. And she knew the limits of her own natural coordination, martial arts aside. Face-planting in a residential neighborhood while levitating a time-locked terrorist nuclear bomb just seemed like generally poor form for a super-hero.

Three hour walk. Maybe more if the terrain got weird toward the end.

She reached into her bag, pulled out a packaged section of string cheese. Bit the end off.

 _Don't mess with me. Rebel._

* * *

 **Max** had been walking for about an hour. She was nearing the edge of town. It fell abruptly to desert across the street from the last of the suburbs. At least according to the map. Another fifteen minutes, and she'd be into sand and dirt. Another two hours, and she'd be done.

She didn't know how long it would be til she saw Chloe. Hopefully hours, but she didn't have the presence of mind to ask Sam exactly where they were bringing her in from. So it could just as easily be tomorrow. Either way. It was a reunion long overdue. _Before England. What was that, like two and half weeks ago? Seems like forever._

It felt like Max had spent as much time away from her as with her. Much of it invisible to Chloe, since the rewinds and jumps erased most. Max realized that the final timeline since leaving Arcadia was only a couple of months. But it was almost twice that for her personal lifeline. _Really good thing I don't seem to age. I'd be in my 80's by the time Chloe was 30. 18 and 19 forever is better. But I'll still end up twice as old as her at some point. Even if we don't show it._

She kept walking. She could see habitation drop off ahead.

Along with the last vestiges of misplaced green plants.

* * *

 **Max** reached into her bag and pulled out a pack of crackers. Two packs left. Delicious salty friends, hanging out in her bag.

Another block of houses to her right. All that remained. The left side dropped off a block ago. Development just…stopped at some point. _People bought these houses thinking they'd be in a neighborhood, and instead they were the last people before the wide beyond._ Just empty space now. Last stretch of block wall to her right. Ahead of her, the road dead-ended into a number of haphazardly placed yellow concrete barriers, a few reflective red diamonds, and a 'Road End' sign. Behind was a fence blocking her way.

 _Just this once._ She didn't feel like looking for a way around.

She lowered the bomb to just above ground level, walked it through the fencing. She raised it back up, stepped through the new circular hole to the open desert beyond.

She hoped Hector and John and the guys were able to get Sophie out. She was going to say 'soon', but remembered she was in a freeze. Nothing besides her was progressing in the world right now. So weird. The Time Lord Life had its definite pros. But there were cons too.

There were lots of times during the five years away from Chloe that she'd felt really alone in the world. Staying in the freeze for any length of time reminded her of that. Nothing moving. Like a zombie movie, but without the company of zombies. There was no one else. Just people statues. No one anywhere wondering how she was. No one missing her. Well, maybe Chloe was, but not right now. No one was anything right now except for her.

She suddenly felt very lonely.

* * *

 **Max** crested the small hill. She couldn't walk in anything approaching a straight line. The sagebrush were too thick. They liked to keep about a foot clear on all sides, so it's not like there weren't paths through. But there was always another sagebrush right in front of her in the direction she wanted to go. Endless…

This was the valley though. She could see the two dirt roads that followed the southern and eastern perimeters. Once she descended, it was probably a few minutes until she intersected the first road. She'd follow it to the second, even if it took her a little out of her way. She was tired of walking in s-shapes. Although it had saved her a couple of hours of going around. Two miles, and she'd be there.

She took another drink of water before heading down, anticipating relief from these infernal shrubs.

* * *

 **Max** couldn't see the camp until she was almost on top of it. Hundred feet. The makeshift compound was surrounded and covered by camouflage netting, completely blending in with the desert. At least to her untrained eye, through the shifting light of the freeze. Inside were a couple of large trailers, some workspaces, and what looked like platform to set the bomb on. She wanted them to know she was coming in case there was any sort of prep for her arrival, so she ended the world freeze, keeping the bomb's sphere above her.

She saw Sam standing next to an older man, in conversation. She waved. The camp was full of motion. _Almost there._ She walked through the front, toward Sam, careful to keep the bomb from bumping in to anything.

She looked down to say hello.

 _What's Tom doing here?_

* * *

 **Chloe** rolled her eyes. "Seriously?" a little louder, "You guys are fuckin' idiots." Her left hand was cuffed to a ring in the center of the table. She pulled on it twice, hard, just to be sure it was secure. Finally gave up. She slouched down in the chair. Shook her head a little.

The room was about twice the size of her cell. Same dark grey color scheme, but not concrete. Carpet, paint. Door and mirror on the right wall, a couple of really large monitors on the wall in front of her. There were other chairs in the room, but she was the only one here for the moment.

The left screen was a two-way video link with Roland's operations center in LA. It switched once between that and a closer view of his face. Webcam on his desk, probably. _Creep_. She never saw him step into frame when he was tormenting Max a couple of weeks back. But she recognized his stupid voice as soon as he opened his stupid mouth. And she thought his face went perfectly with his voice.

The other monitor was a drone's eye view of a camp in a desert. But it switched briefly to a couple of other drone views of the strip in Las Vegas, so she assumed they were all probably close together.

She ran her fingers through her hair. Laughed a little under her breath as she contemplated what came next.

As soon as she'd hung up the phone with Max in the truck, the helicopters peeled off, and the convoy turned around. Whole thing had been a big fucking show. They wanted Max to believe that Chloe was free, which meant Chloe had to believe she was free. They choreographed everything. Once back, Smith brought her straight here, cuffed her in. That was a few minutes ago.

Chloe was over it. Not that she wasn't a little bit afraid. It's just that she was a lot less afraid than she was super annoyed. And…a little amused, if she was being honest. They obviously fucked up. Major miscalculation. Whatever they had planned, they just went to a great deal of trouble to make Max think Chloe was free. On fucking purpose. Undid the one piece of leverage they might have had over her.

It was possible there was something she was missing about their strategy, but full-on SuperMax mode meant it was a matter of time until Chloe was free for good. She had zero doubt how this was all going to end.

"Can someone bring me some popcorn at least?" she yelled.

* * *

 **Michaels** was the first to drop down the line from the tower, down into the courtyard. He crouched low against the rough wall, waiting for the others to descend in the darkness.

To keep their entrance simple, they went in high. The low path meant taking on all of the surveillance tech on the main grounds around the castle. Instead, they hoofed it up hiking trails to the top of the hill overlooking the fortress, shot a tight line over to the roof of the circular tower, crawled that, and were dropping to the small inner courtyard from there. A few cameras, sensors, and the outbuilding door were the only obstacles. Once clear, they'd be in.

Steve 2 had already put the courtyard and tower cameras into a four-minute loop. Borrowed EM tech that played with CMOS and CCD chip frequencies directly at distance. Small, looked like directional microphones, one aimed at each device. But proven over a few years of use by the CIA.

Jeremy was up next to bypass the door lock. They were trying to stay invisible for as long as possible, so he was in lock pick territory, not explosives. While he did that, Steve 2 isolated the door alarm, shunted around it.

Getting out might have to be more direct, but that's where the drones were going to be more useful. A few were up monitoring the surroundings, but it was a pretty quiet night. The occasional train or barge down by the river, but nothing up near the castle itself. Thermal of the forest was clear. A few deer.

Jeremy gave the thumbs-up, gave a three-count, opened the door. Steve 1 was point. Michaels behind, others followed. No alarms. They descended the first flight of tight stone stairs, closed the door behind them. Michaels dropped his prism. All but Matt and Tyrell followed suit.

There would either be artificial light down there or not. Either way, an augmented reality overlay of the LIDAR map of the tunnels would be more useful than night vision for navigation through the maze. If they ran into trouble in the dark, everyone would drop, and Matt and Tyrell would take action until the others could swap over.

Hector was running visual only. The scan rates of the tech were interfering with his vision between the time streams. After discussion, they decided he should play scout. His talent would give him an edge here. They had him tagged with a friend/foe chip for the AR view, so they could see where he was on the LIDAR map, and wouldn't accidentally shoot him if he came running up on them. He didn't seem worried about that, but they were.

Down another flight in a tight group before they hit a narrow hall and two doors. Quick check showed that it was unlocked, but alarmed. They bypassed, continued on.

They were radio silent for now, but all were mic'd up in case shit hit the fan.

They went through another doorway, down several flights of stairs. These widened out. Stone gave way to concrete. Hallways were arched. They dropped another three floors. To get to Sophie, they'd have to navigate back into the mountain down a series of narrow corridors, through a room, a large open space that split off into more tunnels, a few more rooms, and then down a long curving hallway to reach the cell where they saw Sophie.

The large open space was the first place they expected to run into others, barring someone wandering through the halls or camped out in the first room. The lighting was irregular and dim. Plenty of shadows for them to use if they did see anyone in the beginning.

Rules of engagement were likely to be fluid. They still weren't certain who they were dealing with. Weapons, levels of training. As long as they had people between them and Sophie, she was at risk in a firefight. They might also fall back and threaten her directly. So they were trying for stealth, non-lethal beyond that if possible. Worst case, they'd punch through to get to her, then fight their way out once they were sure she was okay.

If they got bogged down, Hector would go to her solo. Jeremy had given him a quick primer on charge placement for door breaches… Lock locations, hinges, that sort of thing. He'd protect her while the others thinned the herd.

They reached the first room without incident. Everyone held back in the shadows while a micro drone hugged the ceiling of the hallway, heading towards the room ahead. Once in, they locked it in place just below the high ceiling, put it on rotation so they could sweep the room.

Michaels switched from the map to the drone video in his prism. He could see a few people at a table to the right of the door. Sitting, eating. Two men, a woman and what appeared to be a teen boy. None appeared to be armed. There wasn't a way around them without being seen.

They'd prepped for this. Michaels tapped out a message, sent it to everyone's optics. Made motions to Hector. Tasers to stun. Hector and Steve 1 each had two. They went up to the tunnel's exit, hugging the right wall. On a count, they walked casually into the room like they belonged, turned and fired. All four tasers hit their marks. The rest of the group came into the room, secured the four targets, and quietly pulled them back up the exit tunnel out of sight.

Hector cleared their plates from table, setting everything gently in the sink. They sent micro-drones down two tunnels on the other side of the room. They needed to follow the one on the left, but wanted a view on the right. They left that drone, and the one in their current room, hovering like little security cameras. No surprises on exit.

* * *

 **Hector** was halfway down the leftmost hallway when it happened. His streams collapsed. He motioned everyone to stop.

His world resolved into one unified experience. No look ahead. No look back. No double-vision. Everything cut to its barest essentials. One single pass through time across all of his senses.

He hadn't experienced this sort of singularity since he was eleven.

It was disorienting as fuck.

Half the information was just…gone.

He leaned against the wall, stunned.

John pulled him back while Tyrell held point. Hector took out a pad and wrote a quick message to John. Something here was suppressing talents. Had to be. Only way to make sense of this, plus Sophie's silence over the past few weeks.

John shook his head. Mouthed 'no idea'… Motioned for Hector to slip back in the line. He understood. Without his talent, without any experience working with a professional unit, he was now a liability.

* * *

 **Chloe** only had to wait a couple of minutes. The door to the right opened, and Miss Margaret walked in, holding a large bowl of popcorn and a couple of napkins.

"Butter?"

"Of course."

Chloe nodded toward the chair next to her. Margaret walked over and sat down. Set the bowl between them.

"So you're here." Chloe said, getting the obvious out of the way.

"Hello again Chloe. Indeed. I arrived not an hour ago. My betters thought it wise to loan me to Roland's…entourage."

"Why? What's going on?"

"He requested a pair of telepaths to monitor your thoughts as you watched his little operation unfold. In case we saw something in your reactions that might trigger an alarm, or…warning or something."

"Where's the other one?" Chloe looked around.

Margaret pointed back the way she came in. "I think she's been assigned to you for a while. But she's in there. Behind the mirror. Angela. She's new. Still good at doing what she's told."

Chloe looked back at Margaret, trying to figure things out. "And what are you doing?"

"Same thing you are, I imagine. Popcorn." She smiled, turned back to the screens.

"Margaret - what the hell is all this about?" Chloe had the sense that she wasn't flagrantly disregarding her assigned job here. But she wasn't marching along to their drum exactly, either. Margaret had been on their side against the Russians in Vegas. John, Sophie and Max all seemed to trust her before.

"Roland is trying to kill two birds with one stone." Margaret said with barely contained mirth.

The left screen flipped to Roland's desk camera. "Hello Margaret."

"Roland."

"Should I take your current seating choice as a sign of initiative, or disrespect?" his smile empty.

"However you'd like Roland. I'm here to do a job. Saw an old friend, and thought I'd take a few moments to catch up." She shrugged in that innocently dismissive way that only older ladies could easily get away with.

The monitor flipped back to the operations room. Roland took the front, checked the monitor behind him and finally spoke, addressing the room on his end. "Almost over the line people. Three long years to get here. You've all done an amazing job adapting to our most recent program and protocol changes - every single one of you is a goddamn rock star!" He was pointing at everyone and still no one.

"I know this has been a difficult road on many levels. But you're here because each of you has demonstrated the courage, commitment and the heart necessary to do the difficult thing - because it is needed. Because no one else can or will do it. In spite of the long hours. In spite of the pain. In spite of the exceptionally high pay." A few laughs. "And in spite of the conflicts we've all wrestled with at one time or another. I don't need to tell you that the sacrifices we've all made, are about to make, will guarantee a better, brighter tomorrow for everyone. And ensure that our way of life continues, and continues to spread around the globe."

Chloe looked at Margaret with incredulous eyes, thought to her "WTF?"

Margaret gave Chloe a tight smile, gestured for her to watch the monitor.

"Let's bring this all the way home." Roland said. "Clock is set to two minutes, people." The room around him burst into cheers.

Chloe looked at Margaret, thought to her "Seriously - WTF?"

Margaret took a breath. Appeared to put on her best grandmother face, whispered "Roland's plan - as I understand it - is to trick Max into transporting an atomic weapon into downtown Las Vegas, bypassing a ring of nuclear sensors or some nonsense? At which point, it will detonate, theoretically killing her, along with a large number of civilians. The bomb plot was already in motion, I've been told. Someone thought it would also be a good opportunity to solve their emergent 'Max' problem by combining the two operations. The narrative would read that this was a nuclear terrorist attack, usual suspects… You can imagine the kinds of things that will follow."

Chloe started at Margaret blankly for a heartbeat before she burst out laughing.

Margaret smiled. Reached down for another handful of popcorn.

* * *

 **Chloe** was still laughing when Roland came back on the left screen.

"Angela tells me you shared some operational details of our plan, Margaret?"

"I did." She smiled sweetly.

"Any particular reason? She was supposed to watch."

"She's watching. I was only brought over the wall on this yesterday - specifically to see if she has any operationally useful reactions to what's happening, what she's seeing or hearing. 'A minor check against problems or failure'. That was what you put in your request? I took the initiative and shared a few details so we could see her reaction before everything was…irretrievably set in motion. Seemed prudent."

"And her reaction was laughter?"

"Yes."

"Dude, I'm right fucking here… And yeah - I'm laughing. Don't…don't get me wrong - I'm…appropriately fuckin' horrified. I can't even comprehend…I mean… I guess I don't even care why, but… _this is your bomb?_ For real? The government is trying to blow up one of our cities?! Does anyone else know about this? Are you people _for fucking real?_ Yeah, so yeah. I'm _so goddamn thankful_ you're like…another insane level of super-mega-dumbass - and this whole thing is a _total fail_ before it even starts."

Roland smiled, said rather seriously "You try. But still look at the tail and see the dog, dear. Governments can be a useful toolbox - infrastructure, powers structures, monopolies on authority. So can financial objects, corporations, media, even the internet and social spread of ideas. Each has their own place. Often, in combinations. But they're just made of people, all going so many different directions… Buzzing. As to the failure probabilities, our science staff give us a 95% chance that she'll be vaporized instantly by the explosion. A hundred million degrees in a billionth of a second… Best odds we could find with her, honestly. No brainer."

Chloe had calmed down, but she was still choking a little. "Your words… Fuckin' brilliant, dude. Good luck. Still nuts. And a hundred percent of my ass says your science guys are completely full of shit. This plan is hella stupid in _so_ many ways."

"Enlighten us? If you're much more knowledgeable. What haven't we thought of?"

"Really? Dude… I don't even know where to start. For real? Okay, you know, fuck it. This one's free. Your big evil mastermind plan - the one you've been working on for what, three years - is to tape a bomb, a bomb that _has to go off_ in order for your plan to work, to the one person _on earth_ who can't be fucking killed by it, and who can also, you know, _control time?"_

She looked at Margaret. "No? Do I really have to spell any of this out to these douchenozzles? Atom bomb, city full of people? I'm the crazy one here? _Whatever._ "

She looked back to Roland, continued… "Okay… Oh, and then - and then - you also kidnapped her girlfriend, who you tortured to death in front of her - and did I mention she can _fucking control time?_ No, not…not done yet…" Chloe raised her hand, laughing sadly, on a roll. "Adding to this amazing, steaming pile of stupid, you just staged an elaborate rescue to take away the _only leverage_ you thought you had over her? For…reasons, I guess? And then there's the part where, um, now she has _your atom bomb? And also, she's a fucking Time Lord._ How…I just…how much do they pay you guys for this shit? Like, it's gotta be the world's most _expensive_ suicide at least…right?"

She shook her head, chuckling, asked Margaret in a false whisper, "what's a word that means 'to backfire in every possible direction at once before you die in a fire'?"

Roland just smiled on. "Let's revisit this in three minutes."

Chloe put up her hand, shook her head. _Whatever dickhead._

Margaret tilted the popcorn bowl toward Chloe. Wobbled it a little to draw her attention. Whispered, "For whatever it's worth, I have friends who live in Henderson. I'm honestly very relieved that of all people, Max is the one in the middle of all of this right now…"

Chloe softened, replied, resigned, "I…I know. I am too."

The drone monitor zoomed in on part of the temporary desert workspace. Chloe could see Max walking out with something black, inside a bubble of some sort? _That's cool…_ The drone tracked her for a hundred feet or so before she vanished.

Monitor view switched to a split-screen of two drones, each in a slightly different position over the strip, both looking toward the waters of the Bellagio. One zoomed in on the corner of the lake by the intersection, while the other moved in much closer.

Max was there before the cameras switched over, they fought to center her. Chloe watched the same black bag fall ten feet to land diagonally against a railing. A section of chain link fence shot out from somewhere above her, splashed into the water. Max filled about half the frame on each side of the screen split.

"How? How did he get her to do it?" Chloe asked, genuinely curious.

"Whisperer." Roland chimed in.

Chloe looked at Margaret, puzzled.

"They're like the opposite of a telepath. They can't read, but they can push thoughts or ideas onto people. Rare. I didn't know."

"Mind control?" Chloe asked, hiding a flash of worry.

"No. More like suggestion. Illusions sometimes? Or close enough?"

"Max wouldn't put…others in danger like that." said Chloe, growing concerned for the first time. She realized that for all her continued confidence in Max, she'd missed something in their strategy after all. _Shit._

Roland spoke, seemingly proud of the game. "No, of course not. We've had weeks to play while she was under. From the very first 'dream' of the bomb we gave her, she had to want to stop it. Fight to stop it. Eventually had to believe that she was making a hard choice to defy us, at great cost, and that going after the bomb in spite of the threats against you was her idea. Her sacrifice. It's why we made her watch you suffer in the alternate timeline. Eggheads thought she might question it without strong motivators. She had to be invested in it. And it helped to have her a little unbalanced. With her powers, it was safer to really go _all out_ to sell the illusion. Your last minute rescue. Focusing her on the wrong cues. But she's convinced now that she's on the right path. She's exactly where we need her to be."

"Why is she just standing there, looking around? Why did she bring it with her? Why isn't she doing anything?" Chloe was asking Margaret as much as anyone.

Margaret didn't appear to have an answer.

Roland did, and he was happy to share. "Right. Sorry - last whisper-trick. We messed with her order of perception a little at the camp, that's all. I imagine she's looking for the bomb right now - to bring to the desert staging area, to Samuel so he can defuse it. Her mind has convinced her that she's going the other direction through time. Filling in the gaps, cutting out the inconsistencies." Roland clicked off the desk camera, putting the room view back on the monitor. Passive aggressive mic drop… A digital counter on that camera was descending from 00:00:15…

 _Shit. She's going fucking_ ** _backwards_** _? If she can't break out of this, and Roland's people are right about her reaction time… They're wrong, right? Aren't they? Max? Fuck fuck fuck._

That's when Chloe saw it.

* * *

 **Max** was really confused. _Wait. How did I get back here?_

She found herself on the same corner where she started hours ago. The duffel was leaning against the railing next to her again. A section of chain link fence in the water below. _What the fuck is going on?_

 _The fence. From the walk to Sam!? How?_

She sat down on the bench, tried to think.

That's when she saw it. The unconcerned twitch of blue wings on the ground beside her shoe.

 _No… No, butterfly! Bad! Bad timing!_

The incoming edge of a new wave of memories overrode her sight.

Her world collapsed inward into red, then blackness.

* * *

 **Chloe** tried thinking about baseball. She still didn't know fucking anything about baseball, but was once again thinking hard about how much she didn't know about baseball. Didn't help any more than the last time.

She heard screams of panic from Angela from behind the glass, repeated with a delay on the ops center monitor. Open speakerphone…

" _SHOOT THE BUTTERFLY!_ _Shoot the goddamn butterfly NOW or we're ALL FUCKING DEAD!_ "

Chloe saw Roland shrug and nod.

The display from one of the drones changed to a reticle.

Margaret grabbed her arm.

The drone view bounced up and back down as it fired the projectile.

" ** _NO!_** " Chloe leapt up as she realized what had just happened - fighting against the handcuff at her wrist, trying to drag the table with her to the door with all her energy. It was bolted down.

* * *

 **Max** was still falling inward to black when the shot came.

Memories lost. Black to red to normal vision just as fast, as the butterfly smeared out of existence. The bullet took its body, ground it into the sidewalk beside her, one wing shredded, disappeared.

The other drifted down like a leaf, torn.

Max fell to her knees with an animal scream.

Sharp overwhelming pain shot through her skull, ripped down the length of her spine.

She fell sideways to a fetal position, screaming as her body convulsed, every muscle and nerve tearing in electric fire.

Her mind began to break under the sensory onslaught, every cell in her body screaming, separating, firing panic to any other cells that could hear.

* * *

 **Chloe** cried out right along with her.

The crowded street on screen erupted in panic, as tourists scattered in all directions from the shot.

The nearest drone landed twenty feet from Max, camera low, auto-focus oscillating between Max on the ground, and the open space of the background beyond.

Chloe was on the carpet, her wrist twisted, chained above her on the table, bleeding. Max's body continued to spasm, as the clock ticked down the final nine seconds.

no…

* * *

 ** _event_**

 ** _._**

 _telemetry_

 _a bright marker_

 _an anchor in time_

 _._

 _a target_

 _._

* * *

 **Max** felt like her body was exploding from within, every cell vibrating, trying to shake loose, trying to escape outward and away from her torment.

Amidst the terror and isolation of that dark moment, her mind was called to a single distant point of blue light.

It grew larger.

Over her own screams, thrashing heart and ragged breath, Max felt a clear, comforting voice pass through her.

They were only two words.

But they changed everything.

.

:: found you

.

"c…chloe?" whispered Max, voice hoarse through the fire in her throat, unrelenting pressure in her brain.

The waves of anguish receded from her like calm water.

In their place, she felt a growing bloom of healing warmth.

A light.

A promise kept.

She sensed a flutter, as something landed lightly on her upper arm. Tiny feet turned this way, then that.

Max opened her eyes, lifted her head to see.

A pair of blue wings closed slowly, then snapped open.

A second butterfly turned to regard her.

It stood on the inked image of its cousins. Defiant.

* * *

 **Chloe** watched through blurred vision as Max's torment calmed.

She saw the second butterfly land.

Her free hand went to her mouth. She laughed involuntarily, not knowing how or why.

As she did, Angela screamed new warnings. The drone on the ground placed the second butterfly in the center, camera auto-focus still shifting rapidly from foreground to back.

Chloe saw unfocused movement beyond Max. The camera jostled.

And for one brief, glitchy moment, she saw clearly.

She gave up, laughter and tears finally blending into one.

* * *

 **Max** could feel them come.

Memories raced over her.

Fragments. She remained conscious this time.

She lifted up off her side.

 _Skinny dipping in the ice cold waters of Norway…_

 _A train ride through flooded farmlands…_

She was unafraid.

 _Discovering the cache of canned goods that would sustain them for another week._

 _Emo, their fuzzy little black rescue kitten._

She remembered the bomb leaning behind her. Absently froze it from within.

The drone lifted off.

Hovered. Its gun withdrew, a panel closed.

She felt another butterfly flit past her ear to land softly on her other shoulder.

Then another.

Max rose up off her knees.

The drone pulled back.

Another landed on top of her head.

 _Running along the beach with her._

 _Christmas lights in our first apartment…_

Another came to rest on the railing.

 _A quiet night in orbit. Their first._

 _Waking next to her in zero gravity, earth filled their sky._

Then another landed on the light pole ahead.

 _The motorcycle accident. Rewound._

 _Breakfast at our cafe near the waterfront in Seattle._

And another on the wall beside her.

 _The EMPs. The great death. Beginning of the dark ages._

 _Bioweapons mutated beyond their intentions. Billions dead._

She turned.

A graceful, delicate formation of a dozen or more danced in the air around her.

A mini cyclone in joy and blue.

 _Chloe's first generation nano-implants. Those only doubled her processing power._

 _First dance at their wedding…_

More flapped gently in. Settled near. Great streamers flew in as one.

Sheets, ribbons of blue danced across the sky.

 _Sailing across the sound, orcas shadowing._

 _Pizza on the rocky beach. We ran, laughing when it started to rain._

Ten more.

A hundred.

A thousand.

From all directions now, filling the skies. Weaving between buildings.

Breaking over them like waves.

Memories came faster, linking together.

Harder to follow individual streams.

She found herself moving toward the center of the intersection.

Open space.

Eight lanes each way.

Cars waiting at the lights stalled as their engines died.

As she walked, more butterflies drifted, joined, followed.

Landing on any available surface as far as her eye could see.

Wingtip to wingtip down the sides of palm trees, window to window on every building.

Ten thousand.

A hundred thousand.

People, hidden, slowly emerged, standing quiet in wonder at the cascade of blue.

Some stepped out of their cars, fair game for landings…

She stopped in the center of the road.

There was no movement but them now.

Her flood of cerulean.

Her swarm in black and cobalt.

A few people thought to take pictures before their cameras were covered, but most could only watch.

A little girl across the street wriggled free, held out her finger, and a pair of blue wings graced them with a landing.

Flapped.

She giggled.

Memories flooded in - no longer mere fragments, but years.

 _The way light caught her eyes from the roof of the world._

 _A fight about laundry._

 _Candles during the rolling blackouts…_

A million swirled, flecks of blue, landed miles away.

The nearest open space they could find…

From all directions. Each settled. So quiet.

 _Paris before the first fall._

Every surface.

Every wall.

Every post,

plant,

person…

Billions.

 _Diving, crystalline submersible, looking for preserved bones, marrow, in the cold pressure of the deep._

 _Only source. Only way to rebuild them._

As far as she could see.

Like blue moss, they spread, landed.

Only the cobalt wings, blue skies above.

 _The first rings, two years from now._

 _The night our favorite Chinese restaurant closed for good._

 _We'd been going there for over fifty years._

Waves from all directions. Where are they coming from? _When?_

 _Their first launch, the first new satellite in over a hundred years._

Trillions of them now. More than should be possible.

Each reflecting memories. Words. Thoughts. Looks. Touches.

 _Chloe. She was the constant._

 _Light. Life. Love. Passion._

So many now.

She remembered.

They didn't carry the memories.

They didn't have them.

Through three hundred and fifty years of calendar time.

Through more than five hundred years of personal lifeline.

 _All of it for her._

 _For them._

Until that end.

The end.

 _A billion suns let loose on the world._

 _She jumped the only direction she could._

 _Back._

 _But…something was out there._

 _Something dark… waiting for her._

 _Between then and now._

 _In the spaces between realities._

 _She was attacked._

 _Shredded._

They thought she was destroyed.

Could be destroyed.

Energies, patterns, ripped and scattered to the infinite void, mid leap.

But as ancient and dark and powerful as they were,

three, waiting in the spaces between,

they didn't understand what she was.

They couldn't know that a part of her was much, much older than they…

…or that another would find a way to make her whole again.

Max could feel them now. This colony. This machine.

As they connected with each other.

Networking. Coordinating.

She understood the truth of what they were.

A gift.

Another chance.

Copies. Modeled after her first.

The prime. Their butterfly.

The one true mystery they never solved.

These, somewhere far beyond biomechanical.

Something far more than synthetic life.

More homage than imitation.

They could have been anything.

 _She chose them_

 _so I'd know_

 _it was her._

 _She always said…_

More memories. Flooding past. Adding on.

 _Powers. Experiments. Discoveries._

 _Dreams. Visions. Awakenings. Late nights._

 _Facts. Understandings. Feelings._

 _Recipes. Notes. Embraces…_

 _Everything._

 _Max was connected to them now._

She knew what they knew.

These gentle searchers…

Spread across the earth, the millennia.

They would have drifted to her over decades.

Doing their work slowly… patiently…

 _Things change._

Each of the tens of thousands of tiny iridescent cobalt flecks on each individual wing of each butterfly was a shape. A form. Microscopic fractal antennae, a small fraction exposed in these three dimensions. Each wing arrayed in turn with its neighbors to form a larger pattern. Multiplied by the trillions. Through their movements, patterns across time and into the spaces beyond.

They were communicating now.

Focusing. Preparing.

 _Breakfast in bed on the four hundredth floor…_

 _The child of the first true AI consciousness._

 _A cold night in the bombed out building, as rockets continued to fall._

 _Hundreds of birthdays_

 _Celebrations_

 _A hand._

 _Simple moments that never got old._

 _Her smiles._

 _Her laughter._

 _Her love._

 _Her._

 _Them…_

Max knew.

They were assembling. Building. Shaping.

A pan-dimensional Arecibo…quadrillions of fractal antennas moving just so in time…

The invisible shapes tuned for her energies.

Drawing in the fragments.

The torn pieces.

The shattered remnants.

Repairing a universe.

A bright marker in time.

A target.

 **Max.**

Blue wings.

A beacon.

An antenna.

 ** _A focusing lens._**

And in the center, Max stood. Serene.

In wonder. Untouchable, laughing, joyous.

 _Snow angels in her driveway._

 _We were barely more than toddlers._

She remembered.

She knew.

She was returning.

 _This Chloe said once that we had to be our own butterfly wings…_

 _You're both total dorks…_

 _this…extravagant symbolism…_

Y _ou always said if I got lost in time, you'd find a way to bring me back…_

 _Love, I thought we were joking…_

She remembered the words.

The only voices she'd ever heard…

Hers. Chloe's. Versions. Messages out of time.

Everything she'd written down on the notepad.

They were all pointing to this.

 _And beyond._

 _"_ Have faith. Trust in both of you. _"_

 _Now I understand, Chloe._

 _But how?_

 _When?_

 _You were nowhere near this level of sophistication._

 _This is thousands of years ahead of us, at least…_

 _These aren't simple clones - this is…advanced creation._

 _The energies needed for you to even attempt to move them backward…_

 _Impossible…_

 _…you ended when the world ended._

 _…before I left…_

 _unless…_

 _…but even if… that future is…gone now?_

 _How did you survive?_

 _How did you do this?_

* * *

 **Chloe** was emotionally exhausted.

Confused when the second butterfly showed up.

Grateful when it seemed to calm Max's pain.

Angela became hysterical, screaming at them to shoot again and again.

They powered up the drone, but by that time, dozens more appeared.

Hundreds. Trillions. More than could be real.

Roland again. _Was he smiling?_

 _A real one? …for once? But he…failed._

 _Why?_

"What…is this, Chloe? What's happening?"

"I really don't know." Chloe tilted her head, gave a little shrug. "But I know what it means."

"What?"

"You're all fucked."

There wasn't any other way to explain it to him, really.

Chloe turned her attention back to the drone views.

She didn't want to miss any part of this.

That was her Max in the middle of all of this…chaos.

One drone went high, the other stayed close.

The bomb counter came and went. Nothing.

Max, obviously.

The view from the high drone was astonishing.

Literally every square inch of every solid surface was covered, without exception.

From above, she could see the pattern.

Max at the epicenter, the butterflies, all sitting, radiating outward in a solid circle, for miles.

It was impossible.

They couldn't exist.

There was nowhere they could have come from in such numbers.

It wasn't magic.

So what did that leave?

The closer drone was trained on Max.

She stood there, arms out, face up, slowly rotating, laughing like a child.

Chloe couldn't help but laugh with her…

She noticed it before Max did.

Their wings.

They were pulsing.

Beating together as one unit.

Max looked transformed.

Chloe had never seen anyone look so happy.

Then the pulsing wings stopped.

They held peacefully, without movement.

A blue circle against the white of the city…

The calm before…

And as one, their wings snapped down, and they rocketed into the air.

The world turned blue.

Chloe knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn't help herself.

"Go Max. Go!"

* * *

 **Max** stood in the beating heart of a species designed for her.

For this moment.

They were beautiful. Pulsing. Wings synchronized.

She felt bliss with each movement, each beat, as a billion more pieces of her rejoined the whole.

Not replacing.

Not overwriting.

Adding.

Layering.

Reforming.

Healing.

She was only ever one.

She could feel the air move with each pulse.

Standing waves of organic energy crackled.

Patterns in eleven dimensions, felt, unseen.

They added their energies to her own.

 _All time is simultaneous._

Arms out still, she felt them beating.

Felt their wing-tips rise above their bodies, join together and hold…

This was the moment. It could only last a moment.

Otherwise…

And with one mind, one purpose, wings crashed down together with a thunder - rising into the air for miles around, rotating, climbing, pulling in toward her. Moving far faster than butterflies should.

Arcs of electricity flowed between them as they ringed in around her.

Coalescing, collapsing…

Alive.

Wings turned, flew, focused, twisted.

Repairing tears in her fabric beyond these visible few.

Expanding her universe.

Lightning flashed up and down along the inside of the forming column.

Static from so many wingtips.

And something more.

Focusing. Directing. Guiding.

Furiously beating, drifting, gliding.

Bringing the shredded last of her home.

Twenty-five generations of experience, knowledge.

The directive consciousness, self-aware.

Timeless.

Faster, closer, they drew in.

A sea of blue became a hurricane became a tornado.

She lifted up into the air column.

Whipping around, cycling, each twist delivering another aspect.

Another fragment.

Where the calm brought memories,

Where the echo tore things apart,

this brought more.

She was Max Caulfield.

And she was infinite.

Repaired.

Healed.

Evolved.

A storm ended.

A chrysalis opened.

A universe reborn…

* * *

 **Chloe** watched as the drones tried to stay in control. Camp Roland was off the air. They shut down that feed as soon as Chloe spoke her mind. She knew she was right. They had to know too.

Margaret was still eating popcorn. Watching the show.

Chloe didn't know which way was up.

She couldn't take her eyes off of this… _butterfly storm?_

She should be afraid for Max.

In this epic reflection of the last storm they'd witnessed…

Or…was it the other way around?

 _Fucking time travel._

She knew it was her.

 _FutureMax. Max to the Future?_

She couldn't explain any part of it, but she knew that much for sure.

She had to give her props. "That girl knows how to make a fucking entrance."

 _But…what about my Max? NowMax?_

She didn't see her own tiny visitor until it landed on her hand.

Just a simple blue butterfly.

Hanging out twenty floors underground in the middle of the desert.

While a whole bunch just like her were creating new forms of weather on the screen beyond.

"You get lost little buddy?" Chloe asked, pointing toward the monitor.

The butterfly turned, moved slightly. Wings folded.

Chloe was trying to figure out how it got here.

Her eyes went back to the screen, where lightning cracked up and down the outside of the blue funnel.

She couldn't see through it. It looked solid, half a mile high?

But she assumed Max was still in there somewhere.

The drones were being tossed around by the winds.

Chloe looked back to her new friend.

She hadn't felt anything, but it's proboscis had unfurled, penetrated into her like a syringe. Which seemed an odd thing for a butterfly to do. It was pulsing a little. She wasn't afraid. Just a little uncertain _why_ she wasn't afraid.

They were all obviously something amazing, something special, and it connected both of them. So she was reluctant to shoo it off her hand. But she was unsettled by its behavior. As it retracted and recoiled its proboscis, it lifted off in an unthreatening, jaunty flutter. She saw a tiny red mark on her hand.

And felt a singular voice, and a sudden range of new emotions in her head, her own, but…not.

Only four words, delivered with echoes of a deep love, hope, trust, and the unmistakable sadness of loss.

.

:: take care of her

.

When she looked around, the butterfly had gone.

Half the split-screen filled with static. _Echoes of the birth of a universe._

One of the drones tumbled end over end, crashing into the ground.

The other was still broadcasting, but had pulled back.

The storm continued to rage.

The tiny blue participants shot to the center, hundreds of feet off the ground - _to Max?_

The vortex folded inward on itself in intersecting helical swirls, and disappeared with a bright flash.

Then nothing.

Quiet.

The winds died down.

Everything settled.

Leaving behind no real damage to anyone or anything.

With the butterflies gone, she could see people crowding the windows of every building, staring out. Those caught outside, who ran from the first shot, dumbfounded. Unmoving. Lights came back on in stages. A few people slowly restarted cars, clearly unsure what to do next.

Each no doubt understanding that they'd just witnessed something beautiful. Amazing.

But having no context for what it might have been.

The remaining drone scanned the area, but there was no sign of Max.

Nor of the black bag.


	26. mc squared

**Max** fell from two hundred feet up. Dropped through a scattering, impossible mass of butterflies in the dark. Just before she hit the ground, everything stopped, reality slamming, vibrating, beating back and forth in a desaturated automatic perma-death rewind. She smiled. Backed up a few milliseconds and restarted her path through the universe. Her momentum cancelled in the stillness, she dropped a few inches to land on a dark, rocky plain.

She stretched.

Butterflies frittered off in all directions, unhurried, as the spherical wormhole they'd created to bring her here collapsed above.

Twin moons hung in the sky.

* * *

 **Michaels** parked the tiny drones near the ceiling at the entrance to the hallway. They'd been leaving them like breadcrumbs along the hallway split-points on the way in. The team huddled outside what should have been Sophie's cell. Third in a line of four large rooms, sharing a common painted concrete corridor. This tunnel dead-ended beyond the fourth door, so once they had Sophie, there was only way to go - back the way they came in.

Despite Hector's power meltdown near the beginning, they'd arrived at the end without further incident. Clock was still ticking though. The first group they'd subdued and stashed in the dark hallway near the entrance could still be discovered at any moment. They seemed like a misplaced family eating dinner. An odd choice to co-mingle with jailers.

Given the confirmed presence of at least one teenager onsite, they voted to stick with less-than-lethal tactics if at all possible. No one wanted to take a chance that a stray bullet in these long concrete halls might find a child.

Jeremy tested the door. Massive steel hinges, bolts at various points around the perimeter into the surrounding concrete, and a modern electronic lock, centered. This seemed more like a safe than a cell. At least to Michaels.

Steve 2 was attempting to bypass the electronic lock, while Jeremy pulled half a dozen pre-formed copper clad linear shaped charges out of his 'bag of manly adventure'. The V-shaped charges were backup in case the bypass failed, or they ran into trouble in the hallway and needed to move more quickly. He taped them around the perimeter at the bolt locations, point-side in, pushing the detcord into the ends as he went. Once the C-4 filling was detonated, the copper sheath would act like an explosive knife, cutting the bolts instantly. Noisy. But very effective against steel and concrete for a fast open.

Downside, they didn't have a way to communicate with Sophie to tell her to take cover. Her talent seemed to be offline like Hector's, and since she could only hear sound through other people's minds, blowing the door would be a huge risk to her safety if she was anywhere in front of it.

Hector suddenly broke the huddle, ran over and put his hand on the cell door.

* * *

 **Sophie** was beginning to adapt to the silence after these past weeks. She hated it, but she was more used to it. Her captors began to interact with her more from the second day forward. Bringing her meals, trips to the showers down the hall. Reading materials. Books mostly, in French and English. Rough clothing. They didn't ever mistreat her. Overly respectful, if anything. Careful. But they didn't communicate with her, and she couldn't find a way to break through to their minds. She only ever saw two of them.

They didn't seem like national operatives of any sort. They certainly weren't hunters. But she couldn't place her feeling about them.

It was still a surprise when it all came bursting back. Like hearing music again after an extended absence. The roar of a crowd. She could hear minds all around. She didn't know how long she'd have this break in the silence, so she took advantage.

But he was already here.

 _Hector!_

 _Sophie! The split is back too…_

John. Some of his team. Their minds were all familiar. The link was instinctive. She extended outward as well. Once she read her captors, and those around them, once she understood, she knew they were going to want help to get out of here. She reached out to her extended network, gave them everything she knew.

* * *

 **Chloe** was exhausted in more ways than one, and feeling a lot of conflicting emotions. Max was okay. She vanished, but she'd be back. So Chloe had zero worries there, or about her own eventual fate. But she did worry about _her_ Max. If she was right, and FutureMax just took over, what did that mean? Was her Max gone? Dead? Erased?

That thought terrified her.

 _This must be how she felt every time she watched me die… I love my Max. She's mine. Goofy little dork. It's not that I don't appreciate FutureMax, but…she's so far ahead of me. Us. And she wasn't here. She didn't go through this shit with me. Wasn't part of us. She had a different past, with a different Chloe. If Max was right, and it really was hundreds of years, what's she gonna have in common with me now? Would she always see her own Chloe? Would I always see my Max? How the fuck would that even work? How could it work when I'm pretty sure we'd both know we were cheating…_

 _I could handle my Max with flash-forwards. Those didn't change who she was. But I'm gonna lose my shit if Max, my Max, is really fucking gone._

She was feeling untethered again. Too much. The ups and downs since the false attack and rescue began. The bomb plot, and Max's…whatever spectacular fucking thing _that_ was.

Learning on her way back to her cell that Nuria had taken her own life the night before. That hit her hard. Her one friend here.

 _I saw the signs. I should have done something to stop her…_

She wasn't feeling good, either. Her wrist was killing her where she tore skin fighting the cuffs. Plus, the knots from the vitamin shots weren't going away like Nuri said they would. And her hand hurt where the butterfly did…whatever it did to her.

She was back to waiting. Pinwheeling. Feeling like she was on the wrong side of manic. Alone in her cell again. Margaret had been whisked away after Max vanished, more than a half hour ago. She hadn't seen anyone since.

She fell back onto her bed. Willing herself to fall asleep. But no…

 _Chloe?_

 _Sophie?!_

 _Chloe! Hi - I just wanted to see if you were okay. Where you were. Oh, my God. Holy…holy shit! Sorry, was just catching up with what happened to you, what you've experienced and what you saw. Hang on, I need to relay a few things to some people. Oh, fucking hell. I'll be right back. I promise._

 _Um… okay, uh… bye, Sophie?_

And she was alone again.

 _…let me know if you…talk to…Max?_

But she wasn't there.

* * *

 **Roland** packed up his satchel. He hadn't brought much with him to the office, but everything he had was now in his bag. _Time to go._

Others were doing the same. The missions were a bust. Calculated risk. Cascade failure. Didn't pan out. Now they had a bigger problem. Or rather, _they_ had a bigger problem. This had gone far better than Roland dared to hope.

On his way out, he cornered one of the junior staffers. Put her in charge of relaying the orders to the security staff at the research facility where they had Chloe. She was to be terminated. Immediately, and if at all possible, painfully. Punishment for Max for fucking up the ops, he'd said.

And she might also warn those further up the chain that Max was probably headed there next.

 _Final pushes…_

 _Time to go…_

* * *

 **Sophie** moved away from the door. They blew the bolts. No time.

She'd already pushed what she'd seen in Chloe's mind out to Hector, John's team, and the ones who loosely represented the opinions of the various unaffiliated talent factions on the outside. She received confirmation back from a few beyond these walls. It was all over the internet. Pictures, handheld video from camcorders and phones. Talking heads were already out with early rebuttals. One gaining traction was an entomologist with a prestigious national science museum, claiming it was a rare, but not unprecedented, behavior. Similar to the large gatherings and migrations of the monarch butterfly…

Blah blah blah.

Sophie couldn't find Max anywhere though. Nothing.

Her link died before she could reconnect with Chloe. Once the explosives blew, she felt her talents locked down again.

She knew who it was. She didn't know him, and she'd never connected to him before. But she understood once he released the blanket block the first time, and she'd finally been able to read him. He was two floors up, in a living space. She'd picked from his mind that a small group had colluded with Roland - the man from Chloe's memories - to keep Sophie on ice for the duration of what he had planned for Max. And for an entire city full of people… None of them knew the second part, of course. She got that from Chloe. All they knew was it was a shot to remove Max as a threat to anyone. And an opportunity to save Sophie's life. So they took it.

Stashed her here - just a safe house. A way-station for those in trouble. Unaffiliated talents. Most staying here were guests on their way to somewhere else, new lives, and had nothing to do with any of it. The suppression was played off as a necessary precaution for an extreme talent who didn't have full control yet. No one questioned much beyond that.

The group who collaborated believed this was the only way to save Sophie's life. Probably correctly. Roland was clear that he planned to kill her otherwise. Which still didn't make any fucking sense. What he was, who he was - why hesitate? She was nothing to him. Killing her made a lot more sense than going out of his way to keep her alive, but neutralized.

The suppression ended once the time period Roland had prescribed had passed. That was the deal.

Until the blast. After that, it was clearly back as a defensive shutdown.

It would work both ways, no talent in the field of influence would be able to exert powers of any sort against them. Downside was that there were only a handful of 'jailers', but everyone here would feel under attack. It didn't matter that John and his group were working for Max. It was almost as bad as their other employers to a lot of them. And they were as far back in the mountain as they could get.

The door fell outward. She couldn't hear it, but she could feel it through the soles of her feet on the floor.

Hector rushed in first. She met him halfway in a fierce hug, tucking her head in under his chin.

John and the others were through the door, as flashes of weapons fire filled the hallway behind them.

* * *

 **Max** noticed the moons almost immediately. One appeared about the same size in the sky as Earth's moon. The other occupied a space roughly four times larger. What that meant, she wasn't sure. She didn't have a sense of their distance, or any other cues that would lend real scale to what she was seeing. They were both round, and very bright.

 _Clearly not home then._

"Where did you bring me, weirdo?"

 _What did you want to show me?_

 _It'll be nearby, whatever it is._

 _She wouldn't want me wandering off and getting lost…_

Billions of butterflies still filled the sky, spreading outward and away, some landed, but many others continued their unconcerned paths to parts unknown.

She stretched out her body, just a quick check. Then she stretched out her mind. Exploring her memories, recall. A quick mental census, cataloging her past to make sure it was all there, but without lingering too long.

Satisfied for now, she noted that the…planet? …moon? …whatever she was on seemed barren. Where she was, at least, far as she could tell. There were no plants above ground around here, and nothing aside from her and her fluttery entourage that seemed remotely alive.

Microscopic life, perhaps. Then again, if she'd found herself suddenly in the middle of the Sahara, she'd likely think the same of Earth as a whole. And even beneath the desiccated Sahara, strange bacteria lived inside the rocks more than seven miles down. They could live for thousands of years each.

Here, there was oxygen. Soil. Rock. Gravity was definitely lower. She could see clouds at the horizon, lit from above by the strong moonlight. Terrain, valleys, a river might have cut through here once. It was dark now, but she didn't know if there would be a day. Some exoplanets were tidally locked. Less likely with the moons, she remembered.

"Time to look around." she said, wondering if words of any kind had ever been spoken here before.

Once the small sun came up over the horizon, it didn't take her long to see it. Cave entrance in the side of the ravine. By the time she got down there, the distant star was a quarter of the way across the sky. And a second sun, larger, came up over the edge of the world. _Fast rotation._ Finally, a third.

 _Stable orbit around a trinary star system… Rare._

Even with all three suns in the sky, the temperature was warm without feeling hot. She said goodbye to the suns, walked through the entrance to the cave. After a short passage, she emerged into a large open space. Practically a twin to the cavern in China. Size, shape. She couldn't see very well at first. But unlike the other cave, this one had a small crack near the apex, open to the sky, allowing multiple slow-moving streams of light, each a slightly different color, to shine through. Once her eyes adjusted, she confirmed her suspicions.

The entire right wall loomed, covered with faded, muted paintings of fantastical creatures. A hand's width each, they stretched as far as she could see. She couldn't tell if there was differentiation between plants, or animals, or whatever the analogues were. Some plant-like things were clear. Others less so. A few differences seemed to dominate the designs. A mix of bilateral and radial symmetry in the body forms, with six limbs as the apparent standard, rather than four. Tens of thousands of individual lifeforms at least. So many variations. They'd been painted with the same levels of detail and care as those at home. But these were neglected. Possibly far older. Fading away. And no sign outside the cave that anything had ever lived here at all.

Remembering her smoky figures on the opposite wall in China, and her brief flash of the forms that tore her apart in spaces between, she turned around to examine the opposite wall.

Nothing. Just a flat, empty wall. No smoky patterns, no greasy hints at malevolent forces. No shapes jutting out as though escaping the rock. Standing in the middle, watching light beams play across the space, the lesson here felt different. This was no longer a battleground. There was no dark and light playing out through participants in the space between. Only ghosts, and a memorial.

This once had been a vibrant celebration of life.

Now it was a gravestone. A marker of something beautiful that had been forever lost to the universe.

She glanced again at the empty wall behind.

She knew why she was here - this was obviously intended as a caution. A warning. But this couldn't be all. Chloe wouldn't have gone to all of this trouble, these energies, brought her this far, just to show her loss, death, and extinction on another world. They'd seen enough of that on Earth to know that it was real. Coming. She carried that knowledge, specifically about the future of her home, already.

The various stages of eco-collapse that Chloe had fought to undo. Eighty years of continuous development, eventually joined by hundreds, then thousands of others. Finding fragments of the lost, hidden across the world. Rebuilding their patterns. With only a few complete DNA samples for some species, her techniques created enough individual diversity in the initial population to sustain future growth and critical mass in the wild, and without introducing harmful mutations. She wasn't alone in making it real, Max had even helped by accelerating local time in the spaces around some of her experiments. But Chloe was certainly the augmented brain that made it all work. And it was working. Only one of her passions, but she'd nearly single handedly turned things around. _Turned back the clock…_

Obviously something of her, something of that spirit continued. Somewhere. Somewhen. Max had just been reborn, carried here by the evidence.

 _But why here? Why now?_

Max left the cave. There was nothing more for her in there. It was a depressing space. As she stepped out into the sunlight, she saw one of her butterflies on the ground. Its purpose done, its life ended, this one had fallen. On instinct, she kneeled, scooped a handful of soil, carefully lifted and placed the butterfly within, covering it gently. A small honor for the monumental gift it brought her.

 _She wouldn't bring me here just for this._

 _There's got to be something more._ Aside from the cave, the world seemed empty. So there was only Max herself, and the butterflies… On a hunch, she did as she had for Chloe in the lab - and accelerated the flow of time in a small area around the butterfly's tiny grave. _Only thing I can think of…_

Hours. Days. A month… Without warning, a blue-green fibrous sprout shot up through the ground, its round green lattice like a dandelion puff at the top. She stopped. Considered.

 _Nothing wasted. Always layers…_

 _That's more like it._

She went back into the cave before light faded. After a few minutes of searching, she found it. One of the paintings. That same lattice puff. Nothing on the wall indicated differences in scale, but she knew it belonged now.

 _Alright Chloe…_

 _Let's see what you've done._

She suspected.

She climbed up out of the ravine. A few other butterflies had come down to rest.

She addressed them all silently. _Thank you small friends._

 _Now let's see if we can't give you new life… a new home…_

She stopped the whole of the universe. Extended a protective bubble of real-time around herself.

Arms out, palms up, she lifted off with it into the sky above. The rock she'd been standing on split at the boundary, lending her a flat platform on which to stand. She rose a few thousand feet over the surface, the light of three suns and two moons reflecting off the inner boundary of her shell. The dead world spread out below her.

She isolated the planet in its own bubble of space-time, up through the highest atmosphere. She could feel its circumference was half that of Earth. She gave a push, accelerating this small world, rotating it beneath her, around her. Her bubble nestled inside the planet's bubble, both inside a frozen reality. Each in its own frame of time. _Like body, like universe…_

She accelerated the planet in time, watching changes below.

An hour, a day, a month…

Plants began to grow where the butterflies fell. A small patch of blue-green on a grey-brown world, at the edge of a large ocean.

A year, a decade, a century…

The patch grew, spread, flashing by with each turn of the axis.

Spinning the world into fast forward, universe frozen, her in her bubble, floating, watching…

A thousand, a million, a hundred million, a smooth blur… The grey-brown became green, with flashes of red and yellow and orange and blue. Three hundred million. Stop.

Seas, land, skies, transformed.

A world.

 _Repaired._

 _Healed._

 _Evolved._

 _Always layers…_

The acceleration ended.

Her gentle scouts. Her storm.

The seeds of life hidden within them, meant for this world, had taken hold.

Spread.

Thrived.

A new garden rose on the body of a murdered planet.

The living world, reborn…

* * *

 **Michaels** knew they were boxed in. And everyone had a download from Sophie on the situation before she and Hector went back offline. _Situations._ A lot to process. Max and whatever the hell just happened there. Bomb stopped at least. Chloe's captivity, Roland and some rogue talents working together, Sam's betrayal, the many innocent talents above. _One thing at a time._

They weren't facing organized professional soldiers. But with them firing AKs blindly down concrete halls, it didn't really matter. No way to tase them from here. The drones were swatted out of place as well, so they didn't have eyes, or relays past the rock for comms to their support team outside. They could easily kill them all, but that would mean killing them all.

Sophie had another way, so they just needed to hold, and dissuade anyone from entering the corridor.

* * *

 **Sophie** didn't have to wait long for her gifts to return. Once the sounds came back, she reached out, felt them above. Henk. That was his name. She saw it right before a large fist hit him sideways on the jaw, and he lost consciousness.

A few old friends had stormed the castle. Or at least opened a few unlocked doors, snuck up from behind, and clocked the person keeping all of this going.

 _Nice one._

The idiots down the corridor were still popping off shots. She drew everyone into a link, including the shooters. She kindly suggested that they stop. Or face…consequences. Once they understood the depth of the situation, the bomb they would have been partly responsible for, how they appeared right now in the judgement of their peers, they threw down their weapons. Hector ran out, secured them, ensuring their weapons were cleared, safe and out of reach.

Sophie reached out, brought Chloe back into the link. Right after guards had stormed into Chloe's room and as they were dragging her kicking down the hallways…

* * *

 **Max** lowered herself down to ground level near the cave, collapsed all three timescales into one. Normal forward rate. No time lost for the universe. Minutes for her. More than a quarter billion years for the planet.

Verdant. Lush. Flowing with life. She explored for a while. Taking time to get to know this new…old new…world. The ocean had moved closer as the land eroded. Some species she recognized from the cave. Some she didn't. There were so many, on that wall, and in the world now, it would take a lifetime. Plants, animals, other…things… of all shapes and sizes. A rich diversity of forests, undergrowth, plains, oceans, seas, rivers alive. Sky filled with bird-analogs with four wings each instead of two. Skittering cute fuzzy critters in the underbrush ran on six legs. The wind through trees and her hair. Myriad sounds of life calling out to other life. The oceans were brimming. It was peaceful. Beautiful.

A real living world.

 _She did this…._

 _…we did this._

One final gift to each other, across timelines, across lives, across branches…

A garden world.

Orbiting three stars.

One for her.

One for Chloe.

One for Rachel.

They never forgot her.

 _Our secret place._

She made her way to where the cave entrance had been. The ravine was gone. No part of the terrain looked the same. Three-hundred million years of erosion, deposition, biological interaction… Hard to tell how far down it was. She felt for empty volumes of space below ground, but couldn't detect any. Of course. Would have gradually filled in from above.

It was okay. There was a rightness in burying the grave marker for this world, while life ran riot above…

She folded space, moved to where the land met the edge of the sea. A cliffside. Watched as three suns descended into the calm waters beyond the bay. Skies orange and red and yellow and purple… Flocks of 'birds' danced and flew, calling out, their happy shadows against the changing light.

Max took it all in. The enormity of it.

 _More like tens of thousands of years beyond where we were… at least…_

"It's beautiful, Chloe. Thank you. For everything. I don't know where you are. If we'll ever meet again. But you know. I'll _always_ love you dear. And I'll _always_ remember you. forever…"

With that, she wiped away a tear, joy and sadness, uncertain if this was a goodbye.

Felt absently for a ring she'd worn for centuries, but hadn't worn in months.

But she felt loved. Always loved.

She turned her eyes to the heavens.

"Time to go home."

She was also there. Now.

She'd looped back for her.

Another chance to see her again.

Earlier in the timeline, but she was the same person.

And Max loved her with the same ferocity.

She held a memory in her mind. The cave of wonder on her home world.

 _The shortest distance between two points…is another point._

And with that thought, she folded herself, vanished from their new garden, emerged in a dusty, dark cave in the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region of northwestern China, on the edge of the Taklamakan desert. Three hundred and forty light years away.

"Hello old friends." She said, addressing the right hand wall of the cave. Bright. Colorful. Joyous celebration of life on Earth. _Yep. Four legs. Mostly._ She reached out and put her hand on a frog. _Hi froggy. Hey emu. Hi binturong. Yes, I know what you are this time…_ She smiled, taking it all in.

She turned to the three dark stains on the opposite side, physically imposed herself between them and the wall of life at her back. "You and me… we're gonna have words at some point…"

She held there, let the anger rise.

Not anger that they'd attacked her.

She felt the anger - and certainty of purpose - of a mother defending her cubs from a group of predators.

…from a group of _smaller_ predators.

She knew it wasn't really like that.

She was a child of Earth, like everything else on the wall.

But she'd seen two worlds depleted now.

And she felt that spirit of protectiveness toward life, all life, just the same.

 _Never. Again._

She turned, walked out of the cave entrance. Saw the small desert village where she'd stayed after her first encounter with her small blue friends this loop. She considered going back. They were sweet. And had amazing noodles. But they wouldn't remember her. She'd erased most of her time there before jumping back on her way to meet Chloe in San Francisco.

She felt a familiar voice in her head. _Max?!_

 _Hi Sophie._

 _Where did you come from? I've been searching for you… wait, what? You're not… Oh. Oh my God. You…are. You really are her…you…_

Max smiled. This was the first time Sophie was reading her, all of her.

 _Max, we really…need to catch up. I can't begin to comprehend everything that I'm seeing right now in you, but I want to. No time. You need to know. They just grabbed Chloe - took her from her prison cell. We…we were connected._

 _How long ago?_

 _Just now! Something happened though. She might be unconscious._

 _Where?_

 _Namib Desert. Research complex under an airstrip, near an old uranium mine. You…can teleport? Like that?! Shit. I'll have John relay you a map then - hang on._

* * *

 **Max** could see the map on John's phone through his eyes, courtesy of Sophie. The mine could be seen from space, an irregular black stain against the grey-red desert floor, with an up-thrust granite mountain range to the east. The airfield was a few miles west of the mine. A few buildings, a tower.

The South Atlantic was fifty miles to the west.

With her mind's eye on the mountain, she folded space, bypassing the bulk of the earth and a quarter of its circumference as she stepped from one vast desert to another.

The mine stood a few miles ahead. A gigantic scar in the earth. As soon as she took a step forward, her auto-rewind kicked in. Something from above. There was nothing else around.

She rewound. Slowly. Watching. Something went straight up. Burning like a meteor. Fast. Hyper-velocities. Which meant…railgun. Probably from a satellite.

Max knew she had a dozen easy ways to get to the airstrip unseen. Unsuspected.

But she hadn't forgotten what they'd done to Chloe.

What they'd done to her.

What they'd tried to do to millions more.

And what she was beginning to suspect they'd do to billions in the future, if left unchecked.

These things probably weren't unrelated.

Too many things lined up…

…later.

She _could_ go stealth.

She _could_ do clever.

But today cried out for a different kind of message.

Something 'subtle'. Something that said 'don't fuck with us'.

She wanted to be detected.

She wanted them watching.

They needed to understand.

Needed to be afraid.

But more than that, they needed to be dispirited.

She rewound further.

Unfroze the world.

The rail came down like a flaming spear at more than seven thousand miles per hour. She caught it a mile off the ground, left it frozen in place, sphere glistening. A second ran into the back of the first, absorbed into the event horizon of the bubble as a holographic suspension. She set the sphere into a lazy, miles wide orbit with her at the center. Pulled the satellite down out of the sky, on fire, to join them as a burnt husk.

She reached behind her, froze the mountain range to the east.

A fifteen-mile wide region of suspended time.

The shell descended a third of the way through the crust of the earth.

She lifted it whole, the peaks rising eight miles into the sky in seconds.

The top of the bubble a quarter of the way to space.

The ground level of the mountain range was at the equator of the sphere, with seven miles of sky above it, and seven miles of previously dark rock curving away below, the lower third of that still glowing dull orange from the heat of the mantle, another fifteen miles down.

Like a snow-globe.

On fire.

She slowly pulled it toward her, set it to rotate at one revolution per minute in a flat-spin as it crossed above the plains. The bottom more than a mile off the ground.

The shadow fell in a massive circle, more than seven miles to each side.

A perfect umbrella for a walk in the desert.

A perfect shield against attack from above.

And a casual display of power, should anyone be paying attention.

Centered above her now, she began to walk forward to the airstrip.

Reached into her bag, pulled out a pack of string cheese.

Opened it.

Bit the end off.

The mountain kept pace.

* * *

 **Max** didn't have to wait long. She had to give the pilots their due. It took serious balls to fly a jet under a rotating mountain range, and to fire a missile at the girl, tiny in the shadow below, holding it all up at the whim of her mind.

She bubbled the missiles and the jets, sent them into lazy tumbling orbits around the mountain range above.

Took another sip of water before putting the cap back on and returning it to her bag.

Rather than try to walk around the mine, looming ahead like a vast ugly pit, she decided to go over it. Quickly. Fast enough to ignite the air, not quick enough to deepen the crater. Should look interesting when the caldera exploded upward behind her as she continued her walk toward the airfield. The leading edge of the orb above had already cast her destination in shadow.

She built up a little speed by shifting the world, her personal timescale and her mind clock around, pushed off the edge at fifty-thousand miles per hour, while it all unfolded to her in slow motion. She stepped onto the other rim, losing no altitude to gravity between sides, slowed and continued in the freeze to get clear of the blast. The mountain above continued to rotate, along with a few more caught rails, some captured bursts of high intensity laser light, the jets, a burnt satellite, and a few missiles.

She couldn't tell if it looked cool. She didn't want to be seen looking back over her shoulder.

Total Michael Bay move, she knew.

 _Whatever._

As she got closer, she passed through a defensive grouping of modern tanks, transports, and other machines obviously intended to keep her away. Spread out over a quarter mile. Abandoned. She kept going. They rusted into the sand, dissolved as she passed between them.

By the time she got to the airstrip, it was clear that anyone above ground had already fled.

She parked her small planet and orbiting moonlets above the runway.

Feeling into the ground below, she followed the air-gaps up to a door on the side of the three-story ATC tower. Locked. The door crumbled into nothing as she rolled it forward a century.

She walked through. Considered walking the twenty flights of stairs. Sophie said Chloe was that far down. Instead, she stepped over the side of the railing, dropped through the center. Auto-saved to cancel her momentum at the bottom, dropped a couple of inches to the floor. Steel door ahead. She froze it in time, pushed the bubble forward, dropped it. Door fell flat. She stepped through the circular opening in the wall. Kept moving forward.

There were people still down here. Some noticed the door, got curious. But once she was out of line of sight of the stairwell, people continued like it was business as usual. Labs. Cells. Workspaces. Living spaces. Conference rooms.

After five minutes of wandering halls, she saw lights flicker farther down.

She could hear Chloe!

And she sounded pissed.

"You messed with the wrong girl, _motherfuckers!_ " Something smashed hard against a wall.

She kept walking. She saw a couple of large armed men hiding behind a sofa in the middle of the hallway. Another around the corner of a wall. A stapler went by over their heads.

"What? _Poke your head out again, bitch!_ I will fuck you up!"

Max smiled. _Chloe._ She went through a side door. Aged a section of wall to dust as she passed casually through the space where it had been and into the adjoining room. Chloe was in an office without an outlet. Across a dead-end hall from the one Max passed into.

With a smile, Max called out loudly "Marco…"

After a second, Chloe answered "Polo."

Max gave it a beat, continued on. "There you are…"

"Dude. You're hella late."

"Traffic."

"Lame."

Max walked through the hall between the rooms. One of the men fired a few shots as she passed. She didn't bother. Rolled her eyes as the rounds missed anyway. Chloe was sitting behind a desk in an office chair, feet on top.

"You look just like her." said Chloe.

"Who?"

"My Max."

Max laughed a little as she answered, almost hurt, "Chloe - I've always been your Max…"

"Okay then. What movie did we watch at your parents' house the first night back in Seattle?"

"Really Chlo? You're gonna make me do this?"

Chloe didn't say anything, just kept her eyebrows raised, shifted her weight in the chair, waiting for the answer.

Max sighed. "Paul didn't stop being Paul just cause he took in the spice, dork-bat."

Chloe's whole face changed. "Max? _Is that for real you?_ "

"It's always been me. For always and ever. And always for you…"

"Okay - now you're just mis-quoting lyrics…"

"Busted. But it doesn't make them not true." Max stood there for about a second before Chloe leapt up out of her chair and they were both in each other's arms. Holding, touching, breathy whispers of missing, while kissing deeply, as if trying to make up for far too much lost time.

One of the men leaned around the corner of the door, low, and fired a few fast shots at Max's back. The sound was deafeningly loud. Each bullet ended in a small bubble a foot from from them… Without letting go, or pulling away from Chloe in the least, Max pushed him forward in time sixty years. Not enough to kill him. But enough to take away most of his life. _Dick move, shooting a girl in the back like that_ , she thought. He crawled back down the hall an elderly man.

After a minute or so, they broke their kiss. Forehead to forehead, Chloe's eyes met Max's, and she said quietly, "So…butterflies, huh?"

Max stumbled over thoughts, distracted by the view. "Even after all this time… yeah, totally. Oh, you mean… right. Yeah, no… something like that. I'll…I'll fill you in once we're out of here."

Chloe laughed, kissed Max playfully on the nose. "You're so cute. So fun fact… Um. I can do this now." She turned them a little. The chair she'd been sitting in rolled along the ground, out to the hall. Lifted up a foot into the air, then rocketed down the hallway out of sight. Max heard a crash, a thump, and a cry of pain from somewhere behind the sofa.

"We're gonna have to have a serious story time later…" said Max, eyes wide.

Chloe smiled, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Definitely. So you ready to fight our way out?"

"I mean, I had a different idea, if that's okay? Take my hand."

"Now you're just teasing." Chloe slipped her hand into Max's, interlocking fingers.

Max folded space around them, shifting their position approximately two-hundred feet upward.

Chloe startled as the scene changed. She lifted Max's hand to her lips, twisted, gave the back a quick kiss. "Story time… Defin…" Chloe's face went blank as blood drained out. She noticed the shadow halfway to all horizons. The dark orange and black circle rotating above them. Jets and things orbiting, tumbling like toy marbles… Her hands went into her hair as she leaned back, trying to take it all in. "Holy fuck. Max. This… is this you?"

Max nodded, sheepishly.

"And…you've been holding it all up there…this whole time? Oh my fucking god." She crouched to one knee for a moment. "Now…now you're just showing off… Shit. And…I thought I was so goddamn cool down there with my little chair throwing trick… What am I… I…can't even…"

"No. No - I was really impressed Chloe. It's super cool!"

Chloe didn't take her eyes off the mass above, but sat back on her butt, unsteadily, hands on her head, slowly twisting to try to see it all.

"No, I'm serious! It's really awesome that you have a superpower now!"

Chloe looked up again, eyes wide, face incredulous. Just held her arms out and up in a surrender, slowly shaking her head.


	27. Architectures

**Max** uncrossed her arms, stepped forward and held her hand out for Chloe. "Uppy. We're not done here yet."

Chloe took her outstretched hand, Max leaned, then stepped back to help lift her onto her feet.

"This is gonna sound stupid, but…you're you, my…now-Max? But…you're also her too, right? FutureMax? How does that work? Which one is the really real you?"

"I'm not sure that's really a meaningful distinction with me, Chlo… I'm just…me, you know?" Max leaned into her, arm around her waist as they started walking slowly along the runway, mountain inching forward with them.

"But I mean, you have her memories, but yours too, right?" Chloe asked.

"They're all mine. Not really separate. 2013 is as fresh and recent to me as 2338. Everything up til the drive away from Arcadia was the same in both timelines. So…it's really only the past couple of months where things have been super different from the first loop. But that kind of change is normal for me, right?" Max leaned her head on Chloe's shoulder as they continued to walk.

"Okay, but what about _you_ , you? What happened to the Max who went to Blackwell a few months ago?"

"I'm still here. It's not like there's different 'me's running around in my head or anything. This isn't like the early yo-yo photo jumps. It's like…how to explain it…it's like we're blended together maybe? No - that's still a really false description that makes it seem like there was ever something separate. Um. Okay - try this. Without aging, the only real difference comes down to our minds, right? What we remember, what we know, what we feel… With me?"

"Always."

Max bumped her sideways a little as they walked, continued. "Depending on where we are in our minds, our memories, chronologically I mean …that does change how we filter and react to things. How we process, and how we register new experiences - and how they make us feel at the time. All about memories again. Go through so many years of just dealing with more life stuff, and we get better at dealing with life stuff. More effective emotional buffers, better perspectives on things. So it's like cause and effect in a feedback loop, where things do change over time, but it's a build in layers."

"I can hear her in you, you know? FutureMax. I think I've been catching glimpses for months. You're…pretty fucking smart, dude. I mean, you were before, but… Just keep going. I'll catch up."

"Flatterer. I had to work hard for it. Couldn't do implants. Time changes…really freaked them out. Anyway, okay, turns out, who we are as people doesn't change super-much past a certain point. Not the core. Not without really extreme trauma, anyway. But we always had the rewind. Jumps if things went really wrong. So trauma didn't ever stick for us, I guess. I don't know - I think we both evened out as we got a little older too. Within the first fifteen, twenty years. More confident, more resilient, things that seemed like a really big deal early in life turn out not to matter much. Perspective about what's important changes for sure. But you always said in spite of everything, especially without external signs of aging, we never really lose our true fourth-grade selves… and you were kindof right."

"Fart jokes never get old." Chloe smiled.

Max made a squinchy-face. "Ew."

"Proving my…OtherChloe's…point about us never losing our fourth grade selves?"

"Heh. Exactly. So to answer your question maybe better, I'm the Max who went to Blackwell. And I'm the Max who's been here with you since. And I'm the Max who lived with you for centuries in another timeline. The only differences are the memories each stage had access to, and how those change perception and reaction on the way to new memories. But I hold all of them now. If that makes any sense at all?"

"I think so. You're basically like…a Max fruit rollup."

"What was I thinking? I should have just started there." Max rolled her eyes.

"I know, right? So much clearer. Saves time. I probably won't know if you want to just rewind and redo this convo…"

"You'd know. Besides, we've had a long standing agreement."

"Glad to see that held. But, okay. So since you're all wisdomy and shit now - this has been bugging me - what's the fucking deal with my Max detector?"

"You have a Max detector? Wait… Oh my god! That's right! You called it that at one point. I totally remember now… No… sweetie, um. It's a…brain chemical thing. You never got it diagnosed for real, but we always assumed you were a little bipolar. When you're around me, my field of influence, the healing effects even things out for you…"

"Oh. Well shit. That…makes a surprising amount of sense, actually."

They were nearing the end of the runway, Chloe scanned the sky again, the orbits above.

"So don't take this question the wrong way, cause you know I love you… But look, Max - if you know everything she… sorry… you know everything both of us knew about you in the future…what's…all of this?" Chloe waved up. "I mean _, what are you_?"

"Aside from just being me? Cause that's how I really see the world. I mean, you've known me my whole life, Chloe. I'm just me. For the other part, a longer conversation for sure. A lot of ridiculous words, or maths, that are way beyond my brain. Or even yours before gen-six augments. I mean, what I see with my eyes here, what I can do - that's what's real to me. But you poked at me for years, had your own theories to try to explain… Story time, remember. I mean, okay, this all sounds stupid coming from me, but…I'll try to give a quick flavor of what I can?"

Chloe nodded. Sat down with Max in the shade, side by side.

"Again - this is all about your theories. Not my daily experience or any sort of secret arcane knowledge. I mean, you were probably the smartest person on the planet at one point, but this may or may not be right. You were always revising. Changing things, right up til… anyway, caveats - you know?"

Chloe nodded again. Max caught her glancing up.

"Okay. So - according to the latest from Dr. Price, at the highest architectural level, I'm in my own little polydimensional universe, not yours… _I_ _am_ my own little universe. But our two, they're touching, and where that touch is the strongest, that's where I am to you. Or the universes touch strongest where I am, depending on point of view. But you thought at one point that I had approximately infinite boundaries, just…not here? And you've suspected that my universe might be older than yours. Just in a different direction. I don't know why. Are you following this at all?"

"So far. Keep going. We'll talk later too, I just…I wanna have all this rolling around in my head." Chloe folded her hands in her lap, looked out to the horizon.

"Okay, so anyway, I'm not so much controlling space and time where you are, as I am controlling mine, and my universe's influence and path through and alongside yours… Which in turn alters both of our continuities, the direction of events, altering the shapes of both futures that way… Or reshaping your future when I go back to a prior point in your timeline and change something. It's a physical movement, just in more dimensions. But it's all just one happy unbroken lifeline for my mind as I consciously travel through my own continuum. It gets weird when my consciousness goes non-linear, cause there's a placeholder Max I don't perceive that motors along - like in old there-and-back photo jumps. That always freaked me out a little…"

Chloe didn't look as lost as Max might have expected, so she continued. "So like with the Vegas desert runs, but on a much larger scale, I have control over the direction, rate, depth of my immersion, locality, and other variable interactions between our two universes. Me. Not just my physical body, or maybe shared connection to this physical body, whichever, not clear, but well beyond the visible boundaries as well. How much I drag your space and time around, the sharpness and positioning of the interaction curves, how much I separate and move, altering rates of flow, broad versus localized, disconnecting and reconnecting, influence across additional dimensions, gravitation, energies, phase, polarity, spin, transference of matter, patterns, spatial senses a little, and so on."

Chloe reached into Max's bag, pulled out a water. Took a sip. _Head not popping. Good sign._

"I don't have powers in the way that the talents…you now…have powers. I have existence. Geometries. Field effects. Interactions. Just in more directions. And from here, with my consciousness riding between the two universes, I'm still learning new ways to move in each one, without being able to really see any of this big picture shit myself, or much beyond what my two eyes can see in this universe, mostly. You used to say that we're both aspects of our respective universes seeking to understand themselves. Yours is just split into nearly infinite semi-independent points of view - think Evangelion. Mine is just…me."

Max paused, sensing Chloe was lost now. "I know - I'm doing a shit job of explaining it. It always made more sense when you talked. It actually gets super fucking complicated almost immediately, which is the problem. And I'm only aware of any of this higher structure stuff because of your experiments, descriptions and theories over the years… And you only really scratched the surface, since so little of me is apparently here to interact with. I know this sounds impossibly weird and very specific. But…so does the idea that you're all three dimensional projections of four dimensional holograms on the surface of a hypersphere — it's…a super abstract description, just…words, probably not really remotely accurate, and absolutely not your personal day to day experience of life, right? Same for me. To me, I've always just been Max. And I can do some things here other people can't. All of that," Max pointed overhead "is like another extension of me just doing stuff in the world."

Chloe paused, considered. Sighed. "Maybe weed and storytime?"

Max smiled. "Sorry. I know. Okay then - maybe the shorter joke version using your words? I'm a variably-permeable bubble universe…"

Chloe cut her off, laughing. "…Max occupancy, 1…"

Max stopped, quickly turned to Chloe, eyes wide, searching her face. "How did you know that? There's no way… No way you could have known. That was your favorite stupid joke for years after we figured…you…figured it out."

Chloe gave her an impatient look. "Great minds maybe? Seemed obvious, dude… Funny though."

Max said, probing, "Okay. So you tell me. What am I?"

"I…I don't know Max. I don't know where the fuck that came from. You said who we are doesn't change that much, right? So maybe not too weird that I'd come up with the same stupid joke again, right?"

Max softened. "Sorry. I just…"

"You just thought…maybe hoped…for a second that…I was somehow…her…?"

"No. No - it's not like that. You _are_ Chloe. _My_ Chloe. And don't you dare, _not for a second_ , doubt that. Do you hear me?"

Chloe didn't respond for a moment. "No, I…know. But you know too. Given the choice I mean, you'd…want the version of me that remembers your lives together, right? I mean, who wouldn't…" Looking away, her face clearly fighting the edge of pent-up tears. Max knew her well enough to know it wasn't only about this conversation.

"Chloe…" Max pulled her close, held her tight. After a minute, she kissed her on the neck and said "You're my best friend, my hero, my love. My whole, entire world. You always have been. And always will be. Do I wish you remembered our last life together? Of course. But it's not possible. And it's okay. It's only three hundred and fifty years. We'll make it up. I almost died jumping back to you. I _knew_ where I was going when I left. I came back for _you_. _To you_. _Here. Now._ We'll make new memories together that we do share. But please, you're the only love of my life - don't you _ever_ think that I see you now as somehow less. I mean it, Chloe Elizabeth Price. You're all that's ever mattered to me. Some things are timeless."

Chloe gripped her a little more tightly. Max could feel her body progressively relax, tension releasing as she accepted the honesty of the emotions and meaning behind the words. Finally, Chloe pulled away while slipping her hand back into Max's. "So…okay… um. what's next, SuperMax?" She absently wiped her eye.

Max gazed at Chloe. "Babe, are we okay? Are you?"

"Three hundred and fifty years, the literal goddess of another universe, and you're still not sick of my bullshit? Yeah… I'm…okay. We're okay. …but…but that _was_ a pretty funny joke. Cause your name is Max?…and you're the only one in… never mind."

Max gave her a squeeze. "You're my favorite person in two universes Price. You know? Sit tight, I'll be right back. We should wrap things up here and get going…"

"You're leaving me?"

"Never."

With that, Max froze the world, went below and bubbled every single person in the research laboratory. Lined them up on the top of a dune beyond the far end of the airstrip. Hundred or so, like evil Christmas ornaments. Or at least poor-choices Christmas ornaments.

No sign of Arnault though. Max collapsed their bubbles. Released the world. Taking a hold of Chloe again, she moved the two of them to the top of another dune. Froze the facility, lifted the entire thing out of the earth in a forty-story bubble of its own, and set it into orbit with the rest above.

"Only assholes have bunkers…" she said under her breath.

An actual trend she noticed across more than a few timelines.

She moved them a final time, to the edge of the perfectly hemispherical crater, the glowing floor more than seven miles below. Clouds drifted near the bottom. Moisture released under pressure from the rock joined with the cooled low pressure winds that slammed in when she'd lifted the mountain up.

She pulled the mountain range back over its source. Dropped the entire research facility into the open space, removed its bubble. As it began its minutes-long free fall to the floor, sand and rock peeling away, structure collapsing, she pulled the frozen jets from orbit, pointed them away, and released them. The satellite, rails, missiles and laser bubbles all went into the hole. She slowly lowered the mountain range back into place, covering it all, careful to align the rocks to their original orientation. Within a few dozen feet, anyway. She let time flow on the mountain again. Great plumes of dirt exploded miles into the air on all sides, as the air previously compressed into the surface of the boundary layer released underground with the bubble's collapse.

Chloe was left speechless, once again witnessing the incomprehensible.

"You hungry?" asked Max, breaking Chloe's trance.

Chloe's mouth closed. "Uh…I could eat?" she responded, clearly distracted, but downplaying her hunger level.

"Wurst und Bier?"

"Yes. That thing you just said." Chloe shook her head, kissed Max again as the desert was replaced by a mists, a river, train tracks, overhead wires, and a small German town nestled between sharp sloping green hills and the wide, flowing water.

"Max?" Chloe asked seriously, as they crossed the street toward a restaurant.

"Yeah Chloe?"

"Can we take some time soon? Just…you and me? Somewhere nice, peaceful? Where no one is trying shoot at us or blow us up? Maybe with some sunshine?"

"I'd really love that. I…might know just the place…"

* * *

 **Michaels** saw them first. Shadows against the light of the doorway, outlines unmistakable. He got up, waved them over. Sophie, Hector, Steve 1 and 2, and the rest of the guys all stood, a couple of Sophie's friends who'd arrived to help them earlier, David and Linea, made room for them on their side of the table. Painted benches at long tables. Tall glasses of beer. Schnitzel and sauerkraut, ribs, croquettes, and a generally massive collection of food and wine filled the tables. No one was sure if they would show up, but there was more than enough food regardless.

Max and Chloe dove in, Chloe grabbed a tall beer glass shaped like a boot, while Max stuck to water. Max waved off wine earlier, said she was driving. Sophie and Chloe both laughed at that.

After they'd eaten, and everyone had been introduced, the chatter stayed mostly conversational, not topical. Michaels went over and squished in next to Sophie, across from Chloe and Max. This wasn't really the time or place for a debrief. But he'd seen a few videos on YouTube of the Vegas storm. And he'd seen a couple of secure texts about something happening in southern Africa. Coupled with Sophie's earlier relays, he felt like he had a decent partial picture.

"Max - when should we get together for a debrief? Compare notes, figure out next steps? Short and long term, maybe?" His teams were on the clock to locate and rescue Sophie. That was over now. But he knew there was more to do.

"Any time John. Sooner is probably better. A few trails that might be easier to follow warm than cold? I have ideas on the rest." Max offered.

He nodded. Roland, of course. The calls Michaels had made were circling. He was looking for condemnation of Roland and Sam's actions, along with others on that team. Some confirmation they were, in fact, rogue. Who was signing the checks. He wasn't hearing anything back. At least not yet. But some things couldn't go unanswered. Everyone on the team had already chosen to be here, made a choice. There were some lines you didn't cross.

"Rest of the teams are in Atlanta. Could get flights out of here tomorrow morning, back there by this time tomorrow?"

"I was thinking something faster… Once we're paid up here, everyone should get packed up. Meet up at your hotel? Where are you guys staying?"

He gave her directions. He wasn't sure if she had a bus, or what she might be thinking, but he relayed to everyone. They all agreed to meet up in an hour at their HQ room at the hotel.

* * *

 **Max** looked around the warehouse. Brick and timber. High glass. Industrial drop lighting. Slightly dirty floor. Piles of luggage, equipment, and an array of tech. Monitors, workstations, bundles of wires hastily put together weeks ago. All in all, there were more than twenty-five of them here. Chloe, Max, Hector, Sophie, John, his EU team, the LA team he had on Hector, and the Atlanta base team running intel, comms and keeping tabs on everyone.

Everyone in the US was already on site when she started ferrying people and bags over from Germany. She could have moved everyone at once, empty field to empty field, but the hotel room was small, and the landing zone in the warehouse was limited, and she didn't want to take a chance of dropping someone in a wall or something. Small groups, kept close. Took a few trips, but safer that way.

Debrief time.

Max had her own agenda to weave in before they adjourned.

Wasn't her first time running an organization. Building an organization.

 _All great things begin as something small._

John took the floor. Relayed the events from his teams to date. England, France, Germany. Los Angeles.

A few of the operations folks on the floor started making notes. Diagrams. Lists, names. Relationships between things mentioned, the outlines of org charts… Running searches for people. They were good.

Hector filled in details on losing Sophie, Max's rescue, added some color to Sophie's captivity. Max piped in with her own observations where it made sense, the bunker, Tom's description.

Chloe recounted the highlights of what she experienced in the Namib Desert facility, including names of people she remembered, her impressions on Miss Margaret, her friendship with Dr. Arnault. That was news to Max, and while she had a hard internal reaction to it, it made a certain kind of sense. The vitamin shots, they all agreed were probably something else. At a nod from Max, Chloe demonstrated her new TK abilities with some luggage. Obvious link if the purpose of the facility was as Chloe understood it. Gone now, of course.

Chloe's account of the bomb transport made a lot more sense of what happened than Max's memory. Whisperers. If they could do that to her, make her believe absolutely that things were a certain way, that she was doing one thing, while doing another, it called a few other critical points of her past into question. Not certainty, but questions for sure.

And John had predicted it. Their plan relied on her being a time traveler. She'd been played. They still would have failed, even without OtherChloe's butterflies. The hard rewind would have broken it, but they came close. Which irritated her to no end.

Then it was Max's floor.

She gave them her own wide-ranging chronology from the UK forward, apologizing for any rambling; she was working from a knowledge base that spanned a bit more time, so there were connections and context she wanted to establish, in order to give them all a full picture.

Tom, the bus, the jets, her identity erasure… linking up to Hector's rescue story… She included a nod to the capabilities she'd unlocked. The bubbles were new to this timeline, courtesy of Sophie and Chloe - and the shot from Dmitri. Techniques were similar to the localized time field manipulation she'd done for Chloe's experiments in the alt future, but they'd had gradient edges, not hard separations like the bubbles. And since it was mostly in service to Chloe's needs, she'd never had cause to try a localized freeze. Mostly controlled varieties of fast forward. Learn something new…

She wanted very much to correct the record on Dr. Arnault - that woman was a straight-up fucking monster, and it made her sick that Chloe thought her a friend. She had a silent side-bar with Sophie about it in the link, and ultimately decided, since she was already dead, to let it go. The memories were important to Chloe; helped her get through the experience of captivity.

Max had gone to great pains to ensure that Chloe's timeline was as shiny as possible at all points across multiple branches. And this was no different. It was all about Chloe and her feelings. Not Max's need to make her see an ugly truth. So for the same reason Max didn't go into any real detail about Chloe's torture, she bit her tongue and kept Arnault's involvement minimized in the playback as well. In any similar conflict where nothing more was served, keeping Chloe's life and memories shiny always won with Max. No need to change that now.

She decided to tell them everything about the storm from her perspective. As abstract as she thought some of it would be to them. Some of the ops folks put up the social media captures and video to play along on screens while she talked. Even the people who'd seen it all before were speechless hearing about it from the inside.

Then she told them of the world on the other side of her disappearance. There really wasn't a way to downplay or minimize how all of that went, and she knew how it might look. The implications of Max on another planet. The implications of her helping to bring an entire dead world back to life. Confirmation of life beyond Earth for everyone here. And a surprising amount of shock that she was able to teleport such an impossible distance without apparent effort… She told it all straight. Trusted them to sort it out.

She also knew, in the back of her mind, that in any successful organization, founding mythology was important, especially if it tied to the mission in some concrete way. Transcended day to day life. Better that they had facts at the start, even if they lacked understanding. This is one story that would get passed down over the years as new people joined. Would make things easier. And she thought it might help Chloe to understand that her alt future self had a part to play in this as well.

As she relayed her part at the end of Chloe's story about the Namib facility, one of the operators pulled up a couple of satellite photos, and drone video from miles away of her walking across the desert. That impossible globe above her. She could see in their eyes that they were starting to understand. For the first time, _really understand_ that she wasn't a talent. This girl in front of them. That she really was something different. Someone who could move worlds. Rewrite the universe.

She gave them a very brief overview of the events of the next few centuries, at least in the alt timeline. They'd already changed so much in a short time, so she didn't doubt that their future would take a new path. But establishing the pattern was important.

First time Chloe would be hearing most of this too. She had to share some of their life for it to make sense. She'd keep the private stuff private. She had ideas about sharing some of that with Chloe later, maybe taking Sophie up on her offer from before.

Their first loop had been gentle for them, with a few radical exceptions. Those periods where most other people simply died. But early on, they were just living their lives. Heads down. Moving through the world together. Until it was clear they needed to help ensure there would be one to move through in years to come. Last hundred and fifty was a slow rise to more of that.

The first tragedy she could link was the dirty bomb that detonated at an electronic music festival in Las Vegas in late 2014. Probably the same bomb. Or a version of it. It was sold as a terrorist act. Which it was, just by the wrong people. This was the first link of evidence that tied these sorts of groups, their former employers, directly to the first of a wide range of coming horrors.

She and Chloe were still in Seattle at that point in the first run. Max went to school full time while Chloe worked two jobs so they could have their own small apartment. But it was theirs. Her parents helped with school costs. Then Max got a few gigs working for agencies while she did her own art on the side. Once she had a few lucky breaks and two large commissions, she returned the favor and put Chloe through school. Chloe's first degree.

But they were completely oblivious to any of this. Talents, agencies, secret wars. Never crossed paths in over three centuries. Never knowingly crossed paths, anyway. In retrospect, there were signs that they shared a world.

John confirmed that the hospital data from October was the trigger for their interest in and awareness of Max. Of course. That was the first major difference. Her first butterfly blackout. Chloe racing her to the hospital. Not understanding that she wasn't speaking gibberish, but that the language itself had shifted over centuries. How could she know?

 _The farther back you go in time, the larger the ripples._ Perfect example.

They'd never needed hospitals last time. So there was no event to expose Max. Took them years to realize it, of course. More to understand that they were not only forever healthy, but forever young. More time for Chloe to hypothesize why. And longer still to tie that to Max's larger reality.

It took more than fifty years of practice before Max could rewind more than a few minutes without cascading into nosebleeds. A hundred to learn how to reliably stop the world, like she'd done to get to Kate on that roof so long ago. A few more to learn to hold it. Nearly three hundred to jump backward without photos. Hard loops where she stayed. The skills and shreds of knowledge that came so easily after her first butterfly in this pass were all hard fought - earned through painful work and frustration through hundreds of years of Chloe pushing her to practice. To reach. And short bursts where she had to power through to get Chloe to the other side of global shitstorms alive and mentally intact.

New skills, new realizations, and even mastery were coming faster now than they ever had. Stress and the situations of the past months had been catalysts pushing her to advance. And with her memories returned, and a future of active resistance, they may continue to accelerate. She had a framework for understanding what was happening again. And she had Chloe. And Sophie's link. And she'd have her own scientists. Her own think tanks. Things that would allow her to imagine and actualize new combinations, allow them to make new connections, suggestions, think up new things to try… And infinite loops to practice as much as she'd need for what was ahead.

The first fight would have to be in the world of people. The next…she'd need to figure out. But she knew their shapes. She'd keep that part to herself for a while. No need to confuse the issues when they were still trying to sort out who all was involved in the Vegas plot.

Back to another beginning. To them at the time, the Vegas dirty bomb was just another terrible terrorist attack on a civilian population. Another bad bit of world news. Another trigger event. Among many in the years to come.

Certain things made more sense now, which she also shared. Patterns. Collapses. Toward the end, it did feel like they were fighting something. They'd always assumed it was simply the last vestiges of the darker side of human nature, but now she wasn't so sure. Given what she knew, it was probably too organized for completely random.

Even then, they'd helped to turn things around in the end. The opportunities for conflict, the appetite for chaos, had dwindled to almost nothing… People were finally together. Working together. Building together. There were a lot fewer people than even today, but it was a very different world that she left. One of hope, recovery, promise, cooperation and balance.

They'd come through the great filter, and out the other side.

Reborn, in more ways than one.

It was the world of tomorrow that optimists had dreamed of for centuries.

Gleaming spires. Abundant life. Technological miracles…

A world that Max very much wanted to see again.

A world that Max wanted very much to save.

A world she was forced out of.

Given her recent experience here with illusions, and knowledge that something of Chloe continued beyond Max's jump back, she wasn't as confident that the end she saw was really the end. That the trap she'd fallen into after the jump was merely opportunistic. She didn't know that it wasn't. But she couldn't be certain that anything was as she saw it either.

For all that though, she'd come out stronger. New capabilities. By jumping this far back, she had a new opportunity to maybe undo billions of unnecessary deaths, focused decades of suffering… Co-engineer a different outcome. Avoid the collapses. Extend them all outward into space. So if the end she saw was real, they'd be more prepared. And if it wasn't, they'd be out among the stars.

Baby steps. This first.

She and Chloe had debated the merits of being generally open about all of this with the team. Of course, this was the first time Chloe was hearing a lot of this detail as well. But this was her team. Their team. Their support. A team whose members had already voted to be here, at great risk to themselves. She owed them truth. A radical transparency. Perspective. They needed to know what they were putting themselves at risk for. What they were fighting to preserve. Maybe fighting to create. There would be others, but this core, here, now, would be the founding group. What followed would build upon them. They had to understand. Know that it was possible. See it.

So with the common baseline of the history to date established, Max broached the subject of their next steps together. Shared her thoughts, as the oldest person currently living on earth. Commanding a fortune. With a mission to rebuild, preserve, improve, protect.

Atlanta would work as a short term operational hub. But Vegas was going to be the first model for their new style of home base. Their first real fort. They'd challenge all of the seizures made against their holdings, their constructions, their accounts. There were billions at stake, and any law firm worth their salt should be willing to take it on for a small cut. It would be faster than starting over with other holdings. And with Roland's team breaking up, there wouldn't be any real resistance behind the scenes. Once they reclaimed their property, got the construction balls rolling again, they'd have a new home. Intelligence. Operations. Research and development. Astronautics. Life sciences. Commercialization of beneficial technologies. She wanted ops to revisit the designs. Security, facilities, underground…

And all that was before they activated the rest of the shell empire. Before they created more. Their own Darwinian selection of what would win and what would lose, based on knowledge from the other side. Criteria - good for us all, bad for us all. Controlling where investments were concentrated, what ideas were bought out and shelved. This was nothing short of engineering the future. Creating a different outcome - or trying to get to the same outcome, without all the dying in the middle. A counterforce to the chaos that had prevailed for too long. And that would cause untold damage in any version of tomorrow they could see if allowed to continue.

They'd have to play at many levels. And it would take them all working together. Humans, talents, time-lords, across boundaries, nations, generations…

Starting now.

She wanted Sophie to put the word out among talents. Las Vegas was to be a free city. A place where no one was hunted. Where families could live free from pressure, coercion or retribution from any variety of _them_. There would be no expectation or pressure on anyone to join ranks with their group. It was just a place to be open and free, for its own sake. Other cities would follow.

And she wanted John to float the same into his old network. The city was off limits. Anyone could go there, but conflict, ops, abductions, anything of that sort was forbidden. Attempts would be undone. Enforcement would be swift, and absolute.

Las Vegas was to be the first, but not the only. In time, their goal was to end all of these separations. Tear the whole fucking thing down and rebuild the things that worked for their ends. Globally. To provide opportunities to build the brightest minds, for all of them to work together. To create the future she already knew they were capable of. Not the future of turmoil and destruction. Not the path of distraction, fighting each other. Their first fort was the real beginning. Within a year. Maybe less.

Layers.

Near term, they needed tracks on Roland and other senior executives involved in the bomb plot. They needed to find the sources of funding, other personnel involved on the team who had knowledge of the true nature of the plot. None of those people should be left free to wander.

Whether that meant turning the accumulated information over to appropriate law enforcement, or sending out small hunting parties of their own, depended entirely on the state of allies in positions of power. If they existed, and would join their fight, they'd take the high road. If not, they had more work to do to create an environment where there could be a high road.

The team was on board now.

Max had her own plan for Roland.

As John had his own for Sam.

* * *

 **Michaels** rang the doorbell. Julie.

"Hey John, come in. I think he's in his study…"

"Thanks Julie."

"Hon, John's here. I'm headed off to soccer with the gang. Back after pizza. Six?"

Sam walked out, saw John. Gave Julie a kiss goodbye. "Sure. See if you can get a copy of the match from Bob after? I'd like to watch it tonight if I can?"

"I will. Bye guys."

After she left, Sam motioned John into his study. Shut the door.

"Sam."

"John."

"Just trying to figure out why?"

"Right to it then. Had my orders. Agreed with them. As sweet a kid as she is, you've seen what she can do. What chance do we stand against her if she decides anything we don't like? If someone were to use Chloe against her? This was the only chance we saw. Best odds."

"You were the only ones to use Chloe against her. Why all the games? And why the fuck would you go along with taking out a city? That's the part I really can't get around."

"Was already on the horizon. Supposed to be a dirty bomb. Not much damage. Changed with Max and they upped the yield."

"And you knew about this? Fuck. I was hoping you were tricked into this somehow. At least plausible deniability… You've got kids, man. How many children were in the blast radius? Did you ask?"

"John, policy shifts don't happen without crisis. Sacrifices. Nation building. Geopolitics. Money. Lots of interests aligned around this one. Public appetite, leverage from 9/11 died out a few years back. Sometimes things happen on their own. This time, someone decided to give things a push. You were too close to her. And you were never built for these kinds of fights anyway."

"I don't think I knew you at all."

"You knew what you took away. What you chose. Do me a favor? …check in on my family once in a while?"

"I will."

John took out his weapon. Three fired three rounds.

Sent a text. Cleanup crew. They'd take his car too. Julie and the kids would never know. Sam had millions squirreled away. That would find its way back to them at least.


	28. Six months

**Chloe** turned her head toward Max. Just a little. Not enough that she'd notice. But enough to catch the sunshine passing through her cornea as she looked off to the horizon. Chloe could see it there, just a little. The light bent wrong. Just a tiny bit too much. Never even notice if you didn't know what to look for.

"I'm in love with an entire universe…" she whispered into Max's bare shoulder, lips touching soft skin.

Max cracked a smile, a little laugh. Sweet sounds. She whispered, "And an entire universe loves you back…"

That smile. The curve of her lower lip, when she bit it just a little. Chloe kissed her shoulder, her collarbone. The small part of her neck, right below her ear.

Max let out a small sound. Smacked her. "Distract much?"

"Sorry. You smell really nice."

"I'm gonna crash us if you keep doing that." Max's voice was more playful than impatient.

"Worth it."

"You say that now. You'll be sad when you're all wet. You should be helping me look." Max pointed outward.

All Chloe could see were the lines of her arm, the curves of her breasts… "I…am looking."

Max with another little laugh. "You're looking at me."

"That's…that's what I said."

" _So_ not helping."

"Helping me."

"Bad Chloe. Bad."

Chloe broke off her visual caress, scanned the horizon. "Fine. What about over there?"

"Where?"

"That stretch there. Left of the giant ass rock?"

"Let's go look." Max moved them across the water toward the shoreline.

Chloe laid back down on the…grass maybe? It seemed like grass. Green. Spongy. Mix of blade-like leaves without the sharp edges and…something halfway to moss. Smelled unlike anything she'd experienced. But it was pleasant. The patch they were on was wider than both of them end to end, at the bottom of the sphere. Chloe's hands were behind her head, legs stretched out. Max was sitting up, looking where they were going.

 _Like riding a magic grass carpet…_ Chloe thought, warm in the sunshine. _We both need this._

Max said the world was only slowed by a tenth of a second, but it was enough for her to create the hard boundary. Different technique. She wanted to explore, but didn't know where she was going yet. This seemed the easiest way.

Sunlight reflected like crazy off the water with all three suns up. It was like diamond soup out to the edge of the sea. Chloe watched the clouds drift lazily above them. Blue sky. A little different from home, but close. Sparkling light. Suns on Max's back, shadows paying with her shoulder blades. The flimsy string of her top hanging between them… _just one mental pull…and…_

"Okay - This…looks pretty good, actually." Max hovered them over the sandy beach. "You ready Chlo?"

"Yeah. Um - give me a second." Chloe sat up, scooted in closer to Max. "K."

Max synchronized their time with the outside. The boundary collapsed as air rushed through. The outer edges of the grass carpet dropped a couple of feet, leaving them sitting on a mound in the center. Chloe picked up the blanket and cooler. Max grabbed the basket with the food.

"Dude, you sure nothing's gonna try and eat us out here?" Chloe asked, for the fourth time, spreading out the blanket.

"It's a strange new world. Anything could happen." Max said, for the third.

"I don't want to be eaten, Max."

"You…walk right into these, Chlo…"

"Heh. Hey - have you given it a name yet?"

"What? The planet?"

"Yeah." Chloe sat down next to Max, cooler behind them, away from the water.

"What do you think of 'Steve'?"

"I don't know… Seems like more of a 'Gorak'."

"I'm thinking 'Steve'."

"Gorak." Chloe nodded to herself.

"We're clearly at an impasse." Max moved the picnic basket to the other side of her.

"Seems that way. We could vote?"

"That won't help. Only two of us. Even number."

"One. I'm pretty sure you have to be a member of this universe to vote, yeah?"

"Oh, so _that's_ how it's gonna be?" Max laughed.

"Rules are rules." Chloe shrugged.

"Then you probably don't want any of this food? And I'm sure you'd much rather I keep my swimsuit on for the day?" Max reached back with one hand, fingers teasing one dangling string behind her back, while her other hand played with the strings at her hip…

"Totally seems like a Planet Steve. Not sure why you're fighting me on this, Caulfield…"

* * *

 **Max** was thinking tent. Chloe was thinking bouncy-castle. So here they were. Spending the night on another planet. In an open field, near the sea. Under two moons. In a bouncy-castle. They actually had a really hard time finding one that didn't require a blower to stay inflated.

But she had to admit… It was pretty comfortable. Totally worth the quick fold back.

They just had to be careful. Gravity was one third earth normal here. They could easily hit the roof if they tried to bounce in it for real. So sleeping only. Mostly.

They'd seen a few shy six legged fuzzies sniffing at the edges, but nothing that seemed remotely predatory. Chloe was concerned for a quick moment about pathogens and cross-world contamination until Max reminded her that OtherChloe decided what was here and what wasn't. If it had been her, and she knew they'd be moving back and forth - cause how could they not - would she have taken any steps to try to minimize dangers? Chloe let that fear go after thinking about it.

The suns had set an hour ago. Max guessed they had about five hours til first sunrise.

The blanket was mostly between them and the vinyl below, but it slid around a little. They still made the occasional rubbing-squeak sounds when they moved against the bottom. Their clothes were in the corner. Chloe was up against an inflated edge, using it for a pillow. Max curled over her from the side, like a breaking wave, her head resting on Chloe's shoulder.

Max could feel her breathing. Hear her heart. Felt like home. It was putting her to sleep.

Chloe spoke softly. "I like this. This place. You. Me. We…we could stay."

Max nuzzled into her a bit more. "run away to a faraway planet together? just leave it all behind?"

"Why not? We could you know… build a little house over there, just up from the beach."

"food? water?"

"All here somewhere… We have time to figure it out. Follow all those fuzzy little guys? See what they eat? If I die, rewind and maybe we don't eat that? Plant stuff that's safe? Big ocean. There's fish too, right?"

Max smiled, one hand absently caressing Chloe. "fall asleep like this, to the sound of small waves every night? worse fates…"

"We could still hop back for grocery runs… books, movies…"

"electricity?"

"Easy. Solar. Three and all…"

Max sighed, nearly dreaming. These weren't unpleasant thoughts to fall asleep to. "we'd miss it though. home."

"Yeah, I know. But…"

"…we could always go back…"

"We could." Chloe pushed hair out of Max's face. Leaned to kiss the top of her head.

Max said sleepily, "not forever though. we're immortal. but they're not. if we don't help, there won't be anywhere to go back to…at some point anyway… without us there to help prevent… or at least help heal, like we did before…"

Chloe let out a breath. "No, you're right… I can…still daydream. At…night. I just…want something for just the two of us…you know?"

"it's always ever been…"

"…I guess… But not totally. I mean…I think…maybe, sometimes, I'm a little jealous of her?"

"…of yourself?"

"Not exactly. Just… she…I…had so much time with you. Past few days…sometimes you'll say something, and I know it was something from over there. Then. I just…wish that wasn't all gone for me… feel outside sometimes. I don't know."

Max forced herself to wake up a little. "I'm sorry Chlo. I know this is hard."

"Comes with the territory I guess. It's not huge. And I'll get past. I just, we had a deal, right? No secrets. I'm just sharing."

Max kissed Chloe below her collarbone, another on her neck, as she nuzzled again. "What can I do?"

"I don't know. Just keep being you?"

"remind me about this tomorrow? longer talk. i have an idea maybe…"

They lay in silence, eventually drifting off to sleep.

* * *

 **Chloe** awoke to first sun poking her right in the eyelids. She squinted, stretched, a little annoyed. Max was cuddled up into her, both of them warm and naked in daylight. Suddenly, less annoyed. A few long white bird-ish animals with four wings and long flowing tails walked along the water, digging in the sand for breakfast. She could hear the sounds of nature beyond. Little waves. Slight breeze.

Max's eyes opened slightly, smiling as she saw Chloe. "Hey."

"Morning, sleepyhead."

"How long have you been up?" Max stretched a little, but didn't let go.

"Just now."

Max pulled herself up on top, straddling Chloe, gave her a kiss, her eyes closed.

Max's hair flopped around her face.

"You're a mess." Chloe teased.

"A cute mess at least?" Max gave her that look.

"No birds in your hair this time. But yes. You're a terribly cute mess."

"You're just saying that cause it's true. And cause we're naked…" Max leaned forward, nibbled on Chloe's earlobe, warm breath.

"Oh, you meant _good_ morning…"

Chloe reached down, one hand to Max's breast, the other teasing down her stomach, ending between her legs. Max tilted her head, let out that little sound she does… Before Max could move again, Chloe pulled her hand back just outside of touching, teasing, then gave her a deep low frequency telekinetic pulse. Max's knees went out from under her with a vinyl squeak, and she dropped down onto Chloe's hand. Chloe continued with low frequency pushes and pulls, enhancing her physical manipulations, while Max melted and quivered over her in the morning sunlight.

"hi." said Max, hair a mess, chest, neck and face flushed, voice still shaking a little.

"Awake yet?"

"Oh my god, yes. Unless you're going to do that again. In which case, no. Still not quite awake." Max collapsed into Chloe. "Wow. That's… that's never getting old."

Chloe laughed. "I've been practicing on myself."

"That explains a lot over the past few days… just, if you do practice more, don't forget to make me a video? You know, for science?"

Then Max took her own turn. Re-introduced Chloe to some of the benefits of centuries of intimate knowledge of Chloe's body, how she works… And a few tricks of her own. Her mouth... tongue... fingers... mixed with overlapping highly localized time gradients flowing in different directions, at different rates, pulsing cancellation and amplification waves of time, toying with her nerves, forward and back with signal paths, and eventually, her brain.

Max's efforts quickly brought Chloe to the tipping point, then held her there, flowing through time, but signals in stasis, nerve endings firing, un-firing, re-firing, backing off when needed, bringing her forward in intensity until Chloe thought her head would literally explode, eventually releasing her to a more natural conclusion…

They spent the rest of the day reacquainting themselves with themselves, and periodically snacking. Because snacks. Finally falling exhausted as the final sun turned over the horizon.

 _Off-world bouncy castle weekend for the win…_ as Chloe drifted off.

* * *

 **Max** linked up with Sophie once they were back, after she and Chloe had discussed it.

 _Hello Max. Yes, of course the offer is still good. There's far more memory to share now, but…_

 _How selectable is it, Sophie?_

 _What do you mean?_

 _What if there's some periods of time I don't want her to see - can they be…clipped out?_

 _Oh, I see. Yes. Her torture. The one you erased is still in your head. The truth about Arnault… I'm so sorry Max._

 _I don't want her to experience any part of that._

 _No, of course not. It should be okay._

 _And a few other…timeframes… Mid 22_ _nd_ _century… I've tried to be careful. To leave her with a life that includes a mostly positive non-traumatic set of final memories. That doesn't work if she sees them. Or sees what I've had to do to ensure she never had them._

 _Of course. It should be okay… Oh. And that. Max - that's…a full twenty-year period of time. That you repeated four entire times to get her out without…? my God. I…I understand. I had no idea you were carrying anything like this around with you. You don't show any of the outward signs I'd expect._

 _It was the only way. For her. (sadface)_

 _Max, I'm so sorry._

 _Thanks Sophie. It's in the past. After five hundred years, you learn what to let go of… mostly. Will there be obvious gaps in memory, or can you smooth out the edges a little?_

 _If we only show her the final timelines of each maybe it shouldn't be noticeable…_

 _Sophie, what about him? I don't want her to…_

 _You found Roland! Oh. Shit. I swear I didn't know. I'd…never met him._

 _Well, you did try to warn me about them._

 _I never dreamed they'd… Oh. Max… is that…?_

 _Let's keep that isolated too. I owe him Sophie. You know I do._

 _I can't judge you Max. I feel what you feel. But at some point…_

 _I can't tell you how much your help means Sophie._

 _We all owe each other. Everything goes around. Thinking of which, I should let the others know. Not the details of the 22nd, but my feelings after - so they understand. If they didn't realize already, this should be a final thing to make it clear. There's no danger that you'll capitulate to them, or…well…anyone really._

 _And Max, you know, I'll keep this close. Roland. But if you ever need to talk._

 _Thanks Sophie. And what you're doing, for Chloe and I - this is truly a gift. So, um - how do we do this?_

 _We just need you two somewhere quiet. It would be best if we were all close. It should only take half a day._

* * *

 **Max** held Chloe's hand as they stepped from their hotel in Atlanta to a room in a house in quiet village outside of Paris.

Sophie was already there. She'd prepared the space. Candles, shades drawn, but letting light through. Two mattresses side by side on the floor, elegant coverings draping over them.

She had Max and Chloe lie down in an open V shape, heads toward the center. Sophie would be the third, placing her head near theirs. She would do the rest.

"All you need to do is relax. If you become frightened or overwhelmed, I'll slow things down. If you fall asleep, it's okay. If you need a break for any reason, I'll know. We can start and stop. It's okay. But I need to ask, are you both absolutely sure this is something you want? It's okay to have reservations, but I need to know. It creates resistance. And it's best if you follow your instincts before we try. It's not harmful, but this is a comprehensive sharing between two minds. Thoughts, feelings, memories, experiences. In both directions. Yes? No?"

She and Chloe looked at each other, both nodded.

It wasn't perfect. But it was the closest they could do.

Chloe wouldn't have OtherChloe's memories of the next few centuries, but she'd at least know Max's.

It was a way for Max to share almost everything of her with Chloe.

A way to bridge the separation.

And a way for Chloe to feel more connected to Max's other life.

Max and Chloe joined hands. Not necessary to the process, but a comfortable habit.

In this quiet, Sophie linked them together, had them empty their thoughts.

She felt Chloe squeeze her hand, gently, but present.

Max could feel something odd.

This wasn't like her rebuild, where pieces were literally joining, giving her immediate awareness and participating in the welcome of new pieces as part of the whole. Sophie had likened it to moving a boat upstream on a river. You'd be aware of water flowing past, but you couldn't see anything distinctly except where you were. You'd have to travel the river before you could remember the journey. This kind of memory sharing was like that. They'd need to take time later to remember their memories together. Talk them through to give context, chronology. Memory was a plastic thing. They needed to find homes for them in their own minds.

This was flowing faster than she could watch, but she could still pick out pieces. Flashes of imagery. Herself as a small child, through Chloe's eyes, feeling excitement that she was there with her friend…

Then a yell and a noise. Everything cut off as all three jumped up away from their place on the floor.

Max reflexively fell back into the wall, almost knocking over candles.

Sophie rolled away, holding her head.

Chloe stood, fear in her eyes, losing her balance.

Max slowed the world, rushed over to catch her. Chloe reached out, steadied herself against Max before she should have known Max was there. Max normalized. Eyes wide, Chloe held her left arm out, away from her.

She scratched at her left shoulder with her right hand.

Turned her wrist.

A flicker of amber light. A holographic curve projected out inches from her shoulder, a thick glowing angled ring of light formed inches above the skin of her left wrist, another at her elbow. A cascade of light as prismatic rectangles of amber winked to life in the spaces between, joining the three in a united form, bending as she moved.

Sophie quickly recast the basic link, and all three minds shared some variation of the same thought.

 _No. Fucking. Way._

Sophie out of confusion.

Max out of recognition.

Chloe out of activation.

* * *

 **Chloe** wiped a tear away. "She gave me everything Max. She…left messages…said she loved me too, and…didn't ever want me to feel lost or feel like I was second. And she didn't want you to feel separated. Alone."

Max was doing less good at keeping up with the tears. "Every memory?"

"That and more. Everything that made her her. Right up til the day you vanished. It's all in here. Plus some other stuff - from after."

"What do you mean?"

"Fucking libraries of information, knowledge, facts, schematics, engineering plans, ideas, things that went way beyond her time with you. Way beyond anything we can do now. There's a bridge that's miles high and looks like spider silk - I have no idea what most of this stuff is… I haven't been able to access too much of it yet. It's still unfurling I think… She only included her memories up to your jump because…I think she didn't want you to worry. Didn't want either of us to feel what it was like for her after."

"Chloe… _oh god…I'm…so fucking sorry…_ " Max broke down, sobbing. " _It all…it felt…so…real…"_

Chloe held her, crying just as hard. She felt it for all three of them. "She never gave up trying to find you. And she finally did. Max, what she put in me… that butterfly… this is what she was made from…"

"What…do you mean?" Max wiped her eyes. "She gave you memory capsules _and_ processing or?"

"No Max. That was the state of the art when you jumped back. This is… something else entirely. She left messages afterwards, markers, but no direct memories. A few things we'd need to understand. But she left plenty of room for mystery too. Things for us to figure out together."

"…tell me."

Chloe held Max's hand in her lap. "The state of art in augment-tech at the point you jumped - was gen 23? Hundred years after the first models, right?"

"Yeah, I…think that's right."

"Max, this is almost eighty-seven thousand years beyond that. She left the date markers clear. I'm…not joking. With continuous development…each new major generation designed by her while using the prior generation — so she hit an exponential curve almost immediately. She had to. Once you left, your immortality field went away - she only had sixty years to find a way to continue, all the while knowing she had to leave her body behind…"

"Oh… _no_ …."

"She needed a place to go. To keep looking for you. She found a way, over years, bridging tech, with their help…mapped, blended, finally merged with the fourth generation AI as a lifeboat. Each generation was built by the sentient synthetic intelligence that came before it, so these were already way super far beyond us even before the third… They…helped her do it Max. They gave her everything."

Max, still in tears "She was so excited with the first… And when it created…a child…"

Chloe put her arm around Max's shoulders. "Max, she continued on from there. New bodies, new minds… Self assembling seeds. Not even sure this should be called tech anymore. They continued evolving together. Her, the synthetics… This is so far beyond cybernetics, AI, nanotech, bio - might as well be super-aliens and fucking space magic… I don't even know how many dimensions this stuff is taking up. _That's_ what she gave me. The end state. The final generation. Since her butterfly, they've been replicating. In me. Building. Adding. Replacing."

"Chlo? Wait - are you still…you? Now-you?"

"Yes. Absolutely. It's okay. Now that the first stage is up, _I know_ I know the difference. Between her memories and mine. She marked them all clearly. I can't explain it right, but she didn't want me to ever get confused. She didn't design it to take over me. She made it as something to step into when I wanted it. Needed it. When I was ready. I can access any of it on the side, or, if I want, I can move in permanently. Extend it myself, become the next gen, beyond what she was when she sent this. If I want. It's already upgrading my body. My cells. Redundancies. Resilience… It's still unpacking… So much more. She wanted me to be free to be me. With you. But to have a little gift from her to make it better for both of us."

After a few minutes absorbing, Max asked, "Chloe - um…" she sniffled, "how will this interact with your new talent? Does that…"

Chloe smiled. "Let's just say that now, between the two of us? Max, they'll never fucking know what hit them…"

"I don't even know what to say Chlo…" Max hugged into her, face wet. "…everything she's given…for us…"

"She loved you… _so much_ Max…"

Max said quietly "I loved her too… and I never would have…"

"She knew. And that you'd never leave her. Not willingly. Not knowingly." Chloe held on while Max let go.

* * *

 **Max** leaned back on the bench. Her squirrel terrarium… All she needed now were the squirrels. Plants had taken hold. Waterproofing. Drip systems. Open spaces, hiding places. Three floors high, one wing. Would be open to everyone. A few trees. Sun streaming in, fountains burbling. Fish ponds. Paths through the grass. All indoor. Glass on all sides. It was better than she'd hoped. Critter advisors suggested she wait a couple of months. Let the ecosystem settle into a rhythm before adding the squirrels.

The top two floors on all three spokes were theirs, including the glass pool intruding into the top floor of one wing from above. So pretty at night. They turned them into glass walls, hallways on that floor. Worked with it. Lit from the water side. It came out awesome. This was finally their home.

The rest would be finished within a couple of weeks.

It had been six months. They'd bring the others in, start consolidating. A few of the labs were already open. Even if the elevators weren't completely working yet. It had taken longer than expected, but all of the last minute design and build changes from Chloe last year - structural, material, and otherwise - doubled the construction time, even with all three shifts going. Still. It was seriously badass.

She liked coming here, even without the squirrels.

It was a place where she could center herself. Watching the Koi. Calm her mind.

She'd usually come back after too. Stay for a while.

It always helped.

* * *

 **Max** folded directly to the room. 6310. Modern suite in a fashionable hotel complex in Rio. White interior, polished marble surfaces, low seating.

"Roland."

 _The man who can lie to telepaths… the fucking infiltrator…_

He was sitting at a cafe table on the covered balcony outside, at the other end of the room, tablet propped up against a carafe of water. Fruit. Cheese. Espresso. He appeared startled, but not surprised.

"It's only been two days. Didn't expect you'd track me down quite this quickly."

This first part was always rote. "Took us a few months. Worked backwards from there. Wrote myself a note near the beginning."

"Of course. You sh…"

Max fought the urge to speed through. But this part was always just sad. Confessing his part. Denying his part. She cut him off again. "Blah fucking blah. _I get it._ You know, I could have worked with that. The secret talent climbing the bad guy ladder bit, hard trade-offs for the greater mission, greater good. Nice - identify the string pullers… fuck it. whatever. Then I come along. Sure. You saw a weapon you could point at them. I could understand. All of it. But not what you did to her."

Sometimes she wondered if she just came here to yell at him.

She continued before he could say the next lines. "As long as I've been coming here, there's never been anything you've said that has kept you alive beyond these few moments."

Dawning realization. "How long?"

"Few months. We're at sixty or so out of a target of ten thousand."

"That's probably not healthy. Does she know?"

"It wouldn't save you if she did."

"Max, after today, you need to stop. Not for me - for you. I didn't…"

"You didn't what, Roland? Go to all this trouble? For me? The world? This is _your_ sacrifice? I've heard it all. We've had…time. I know what you are. What you did. Why you think you did it. You lost your way a long time ago."

"It worked though. That's all that really matters. Look at you."

"Sophie was right about you guys. You're all fucking nuts. World's worst fan club."

"They have a chance now, you know? I made you stronger. Better. She…Chloe…it didn't really happen anyway. Not really. And without you, that b…"

"Doesn't matter. Three fucking hours, Roland. What you did to her. I could erase it from Chloe. From you. But not from me."

"There's…a part of me that's sorry for that, Max…"

"I know."

She shifted, striking the air with the back of her hand. Behind her movements, an echoing trail of exploding microscopic lights followed. Each giving birth to a new universe.

The explosive shockwave pushed through the open cube of the room, bulging the walls only slightly, the force carrying furniture, artworks, and Roland out into the empty air sixty-three stories up. His body traveled a mile from the hotel before hitting the ground.

It didn't ever seem to matter how this hour played out. As long as Roland was dead before she jumped back, the effect on the future remained the same. Nothing.

She'd have to remember to pick up koi pellets on her way back this time.

* * *

 **Max** knew Chloe was a little nervous, standing off to the side. This wasn't Max's first time in front of people. It had always been easier for her though - if she fucked it up, she could just rewind. Chloe had all of the memories of leadership, but they were given to her. She'd still need to earn her way to confidence on things outside her current comfort zone.

This was still outside Max's _preference_ zone, but she knew she had to play a role here today. Leadership was partly administration. Long hours. Paperwork. Partly being out there doing the actual work alongside others. But you also had to be able to communicate a valuable and believable vision for the future. Inspire people to do their best, most thoughtful work toward a common goal. Why are we all here? What are we all trying to do? Help people understand that they affect the outcome, succeed or fail. That they have a stake in all of it and a reason for being here that goes beyond a paycheck. And that you're right there with them. They had to believe in the leaders, each other, and in the mission. Not without question - they had to care enough do that too.

That she was good at all of this was beside the point. It was still outside her preference zone. Just before the time hit, Chloe pulled her over, fussed with her collar for a second. A grown-up shirt. Pleh.

Chloe brushed Max's blue streaks to one side, gave her a sharp nod and a smile. Whispered, "You seem all serious-pants. You know what you're gonna say?"

"I thought maybe I'd just go up and talk about boys for like twenty minutes?" whispered Max, casually.

"If you want, I could go up and lead everyone in a quick prayer? Dear Max, thank you for these chairs…"

"I'm gonna punch you right in the beak Price! Don't you dare!"

Chloe sidled up, leaned in conspiratorially, "Or I could go up, introduce you? Tell them the part where you're like the sole occupant and goddess of your own magical space universe, slumming down here with us mortals?"

"Chloe! Shush. You know it's not like that. Don't tell them that. Some of the new people would totally believe you…"

"Dear Max. For Maxmas, I want a pony, and a PS4 and…"

"Brat. Stop making me laugh. I have to do this right. You're sooo gonna get it later."

"Promise?"

"You _will_ bow before your god." Max said seriously, but softly.

"I like you. And this? _Never_ getting old…"

Max rolled her eyes, walked up to the front onto the elevated platform. Tripped on the edge and fell flat on her face.

Chloe just laughed, turned away, shaking her head. Gave Max the rewind motion.

Max rolled her eyes again. Rewound.

Max appeared on the elevated platform. Gave herself a minute to get her mind back to the right place for what she had to do here. It actually was a pretty serious-pants moment… _back in character…_

She looked out over the small sea of faces behind monitors, bunched rolling chairs, groups hanging out between aisles, the small drones relaying video to other floors, wings, a few out in the field on mobiles. Sophie near the front, linked to still more, relaying.

 _This is the real beginning_ , she thought, taking in the room, the people around her, feeling the building, spaces, people. This was where the next phase started. This is where they would all come together as a full team. The corrective measure. The opposing force. The immovable fucking object. The lighthouse against the darkness.

"So first, hi everyone. Um. Most of you know, I'm Max Caulfield. I'm the MC in MCCP… somewhere outside on the building I think… unless it fell off again? I…we…wanted to thank you. For being here. For all the hard work you've put in to get this building, this sanctuary, the biolabs, R&D, tech center, talent training, and this permanent operations center up and running. I know we've all been running while tying our shoes here, so yeah. I think we have, what, eight live ops going on right now closing down the last of the stragglers from the December actions?"

Tyrell nodded.

"And three candidates for cold fusion designs nearing fight-club stage? And a prototype electrical transformer that can heal damage from solar flares, EMP bursts?"

Chloe nodded.

"And a new team in C-wing is almost ready to fertilize new black rhino embryos for surrogate implantation? This is all amazing work, especially with the lights still flickering…and yes, I'm sorry a few of you got stuck in the elevator earlier…"

Laughter.

"So you're going to hear from a few people up here today representing a range of disciplines. For those of you who've been with us a while, some of this will be a repeat. But there are enough of you who are brand new that we thought it made some sense to do this. Big picture. There are also people in a variety of fields who aren't used to this kind of cross-functional sharing. It's all connected, so this is how it should work day to day. We have three wings of forty floors each. Another twenty below. Kitchens and coffee in the middle. Talk to people. It's why your workspaces are intermingled. Anyway, this is our first real week here together in this new building, and we thought you should all understand why."

She continued. "So John Michaels, our EVP on the ops side, will brief you all on the backstory in a minute. Which is also a forward story, or a side story. Maybe. Shut up. You know what I mean."

A few chuckles around the room.

"Yeah, I'm not even gonna bother rewinding. You're all stuck with that in your heads… Permanent record. Your fault." she made a face. She could see Chloe cringing off to the side. _Charming goofball is part of the role too, dear…keeps us relatable. approachable. we need that to ground us; temper the other parts of us in their eyes…_

"But we need you to really understand - what you do here is important. It matters. I don't mean that in the abstract. In the past six months, with limited staff and support, working out of warehouses around the country, you and your teammates brought four species back from the edge, while others beside you have saved literally tens of thousands of human lives around the world. Let that sink in for a second."

A small voice from the back, "we're still trying to catch up!" laugher in the room.

Chloe touched a glowing amber prism above her forearm, bringing the holo-display above Max to life, with a single bright amber line running from left to right…

"This is why I'm here. This end is today, July 10th, 2014. That end is October, 2338." Small dots began to appear on the timeline. Then joined by large. Then clusters one-third of the way along, falling off the line, and another massive set with really large dots and clusters obscuring the line and space on each side completely for a quarter of the total timeline over the two-thirds mark.

"Each of those dots, circles, represents a future historical event. Each pixel is a million dead." She let that sink in.

"Thing is, we're not here to save lives. We're here to save generations. Entire family lines. Ethnic bloodlines. Cultures. We're trying to save ten billion people from extinction. More once you consider the generations lost, stretching away beyond them. We're trying to save them all. But also trying to help build them a world, a civilization they'd dream of living in. That everyone can find a place in; be proud of."

A single green line appeared, an overlay. The thickness of the line increased from left to right, widening off the display completely by the two-thirds mark. Started to converge back toward the center in the final third.

"Biodiversity. Each pixel off that center line represents an additional ten thousand species lost per year. That doesn't include the baseline of a hundred and twenty thousand species lost each year since the start of the Holocene extinction event - human related species loss we've been a part of for the past twelve thousand years. Each year, that line resets to zero as the extinct species fall off. Gets bigger every year just the same."

The room was once again sobered.

Red overlay. Blocks of time. "Wars. Global conflicts."

Yellow overlay. "Disease. Bacterial. Viral. Weaponized and natural."

Magenta overlay. Hockey-stick line. "Global temperatures."

Cyan overlay. Jagged line. "Number of people alive on earth. That low point near the bottom there? Ten million souls. Total. Global." She could hear the sharp intakes of breath.

Blue overlay. Point events. "Natural disasters."

Purple overlay. "Number of people living beyond earth. That line never rises above ten."

A bright white line, a tiny stub, appeared on the left side. Zoomed in, all other data visuals faded behind.

"This is the past six months. That white line? That's us." The display zoomed out again. "Everything that's not on that white line — that's preventable. Addressable. Solvable. We're the only ones standing between now - and then. _That's_ why we're here."

She let that sit.

"Now, we'll hear from a few of your peers. To tell you what we're all doing about it. What we're trying to build instead…" Max held for a moment, moved off the platform.

Chloe called this MAXx. Max hated it. Thankfully she didn't say the name out loud to anyone else. They'd start repeating it. This mini-event would go on all day, with food and breaks, as different department heads introduced their teams, walked through their projects. Scientists. Architects. Engineers. Inventors. Roboticists. Biologists. Oceanographers. Materials engineers. Neurologists. Researchers. Talents. Finance and investments. Ops teams. And more. Max walked back to Chloe, on the other end of the floor near the central elevators.

"Can you get me a job here? This place sounds really awesome." whispered Chloe.

"I hate you." smiled Max, under her breath.

"You love me and you know it."

"Busted." Max cast her eyes around the room. "What do you think?"

Chloe answered, "I think we have a long way to go. But it's a really good core team. This is a start. Way more than we had last loop. Getting into this early is a huge edge for the good guys I think."

Max added, "I think our opposition has the message that it's gonna be a fight. And they're winding up to make it as ugly as possible."

"Fuck 'em. They don't deserve this world."

"I'm with you."

"Is that a promise?"

"A threat." Max took her hand.

"So, boss, now that this launch is out of the way, any chance we can head to Thailand for the weekend? Wake up naked on a beach? You kinda promised…"

"Wait… I thought you were the boss? And I did, didn't I? Um. What's airfare like right now?"

Chloe laughed. "I hate you."

"I know…"

"If not Thailand, um, can we at least do that zero-g sex in a space hamster bubble thing again? Cause…that kinda rocked."

"Why not both?" Max leaned into Chloe, kissed her. Their view of the operations center gave way to a bright shiny blue. A hemisphere covered half their sky. Somewhere far below, Max could almost see their Thai beach…

* * *

 **After**

One hundred sixty-three thousand light years away, nearly eighty-seven thousand years into the future, a blue hypergiant star five-million times more luminous, and two hundred thirty times more massive than earth's sun, vanishes. Exiting the universe across all of time, as though it had never existed at all.

* * *

 **Final note:**

As a closing pointer, this series continues on in the sequel, 'Near Light'. So if you enjoyed this one, you should maybe go check it out. Cause I think more stuff happens over there. I mean, it's just starting, so...I'm assuming more stuff will happen? Kinda misses the opportunity if it doesn't, right? Gah. Can you imagine? After all that, you click over and it's all just "And then, nothing else happened. Ever. The End."

Bright side, it would be super short? Whatever. You get it.

I'll try my best not to totally screw it up, and y'all try your best not to totally yell at me if I make mistakes. Deal? :D


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